


Been Away Too Long

by thornfield_girl



Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Universe, Closeted Character, First Time, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 39,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frances Givens left Harlan with her son when he was a young child. Growing up with a kind and supportive family, Raylan is a very different person. When he meets Boyd Crowder, they have an instant connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Frances Baker was dying. She'd been diagnosed with stomach cancer the year her son Raylan had gone off to college, and originally the prognosis had been good. She's started chemo, and told him to study hard and have fun, and not to worry. His dad would take care of her.

When he'd come back for Christmas that first year, she'd been weak and sick, but was very hopeful, and she'd sent him back with reassurances that he shouldn't fret about it. By the time summer rolled around, she'd known she was not going to beat the illness. She'd stopped treatment in the spring, but hadn't been able to tell him. 

The last night before he was to go back to school, she'd called him to her bedside and told him that she loved him more than anything, and that no matter what happened, she'd always be with him. He'd cried, then laid next to her for an hour while she stroked his hair and told him stories about her childhood in the Kentucky hills.

She told him about her people, and then a little about Raylan's other people, the Givens clan. He hadn't been called Givens since he was very small, when her husband had adopted him and given him his name, but she believed a man should know who he is and where he comes from. 

She'd left Arlo Givens when Raylan was only two years old, gotten on a bus bound for Bakersfield, California, where she had a cousin she'd been close to as a child. He and his wife had taken her in without questioning, helped her find work as a church secretary, and had let her stay with her young child until she met Craig Baker and married him. 

Craig could not have been any more different from Arlo if he'd been designed for that very purpose. He was kind, ambitious, and willing to be a father to a boy who was not his own blood. They had moved to a suburb outside of Portland about a year after their wedding. 

Raylan had grown up beautifully. Girls loved him, and he seemed to love them back. Since the age of fifteen, he was rarely without a date on a Friday night, and as far as she could tell, he treated them well. He never got too serious with any of them, but she left the conversations about sex and such things to her husband.

At the age of seventeen, at the dinner table, he'd told her and Craig that he was seeing someone new, and it was a boy this time. She'd stammered out a question, and he'd just smiled at her and said, "No, I wouldn't say I'm gay. I just think I like boys too. We'll see how it goes. Okay?"

She'd had a hard time falling asleep that night, and finally Craig had asked her what she was so worried about. She'd told him, "I only want him to be happy."

"Seems pretty happy to me," he'd said, grinning at her. "Seems downright pleased with himself, if you ask me. He'll be fine. The world is changing, can't you tell?"

"What about -" She couldn't bring herself to say the word, but it was 1990, and he knew exactly what she meant.

"He'll watch out for himself, Frances. He's always been able to do that."

And that was true. Raylan had a strong self-preservation streak that she supposed came from Arlo Givens. It certainly hadn't come from her; she'd barely managed to leave Harlan, even after her husband had broken one of her ribs and blackened her eye.

The boy had come and gone, with as little drama as all the girls had before him. Raylan had dated another girl after him, and that had ended when he'd gone away to college in Eugene. She didn't hear much about his social life after that, and she wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

 

Raylan was in his dorm room on a Sunday afternoon, working in a paper that was due the next day, and wishing for a distraction. Just a quick one, something to break up the boredom. This was the last assignment he had to finish before Thanksgiving, and he was having a hard time focusing.

He wanted to get home and see his mother, but he was also dreading it. She hadn't been doing well in the summer, before he'd left, and he was scared to think of how bad it might be now. He thought of calling his dad and asking, but that seemed even worse.

There was a knock at the door, and Raylan grinned, wondering if it might be Gabriel from down the hall. Maybe his roommate had gone out and he was looking for company. That would be a decent way to spend the next hour or so. He had some weed to share and everything.

When he opened the door he found, not skinny Gabriel with his messy brown curls and shy smile, but the fat, red-headed RA who was always trying to ingratiate himself with the younger students. 

"What do you want, Jeremy?"

The boy looked a little distressed, and hesitated before saying, "Ray, um, I was on desk duty, and...you have a visitor in the lobby. It's your dad. He said he didn't want to call-"

Raylan held up a hand and closed his eyes, and Jeremy stopped talking immediately. "Alright, thanks. Be right down."

His dad was waiting for him, and even though he'd known from the second Jeremy had said he was here, it hit home when he saw the man's face. He squeezed his eyes shut against tears as his father hugged him, then they went back up to Raylan's room. 

They sat on the edge of his bed, and his father said he had something to tell him. "Your aunt Helen is coming from Kentucky for the funeral. She's looking forward to meeting you. And she...she and your mom had talked about this awhile ago, but she didn't want to say anything to you about it. Frances wanted her ashes scattered in Harlan County, up in the hills where she grew up."

"Alright," Raylan said cautiously. "I don't care where her ashes go, Dad. I don't have an opinion on it."

"She wanted you to take them there. And for you to stay with Helen, and see where it is you come from. And even - if you want - to meet your father." Craig's voice broke on the last word, and Raylan frowned hard. 

"You're my father. I don't need to meet the asshole who beat my mother and drove her away from her home."

Craig let out a breath and put a hand on Raylan's shoulder. "I don't doubt that, son. But sometimes, it's better to know than to wonder. It's your choice, though. The whole trip is your choice, but it's what your mother wanted. It meant a lot to her."

Raylan nodded. "I'll go." They sat for a minute in silence, until Raylan broke it by saying, "I can't believe she's gone." 

Even at 19, he knew that was a trite and stupid thing to say. But he understood, then, why people say it. They say it because it's true, because it is almost impossible to grasp that someone who seems so alive in your mind is actually gone, that your desperate desire for them to still be there, to talk to them, does not have the power to summon them. For the first time in his life, he understood religion, though it was no comfort to him.

Craig just nodded in response, then helped Raylan pack his things. On the way down the hall to the elevator, they pass Gabriel, and Raylan briefly thinks that if he'd just gone down to the boy's room earlier instead of waiting to be asked, this would all have been postponed. He wouldn't be dealing with it yet. But that was a pointless thought, and he shook it off. 

"Hey Ray," Gabriel said, frowning slightly, "Leaving for break early?"

"My mom died," Raylan said, and it came out sounding harsh, like an insult almost. 

Gabriel's face fell, and he said, "I'm so sorry. You'll be back after break, huh?"

"Yep," Raylan said. "Later, man." 

"Bye." 

They continued down the hall to the elevator, and when they got on, his dad asked, "So...was that a friend, or..."

Raylan looked away. There were many benefits to having supportive parents, but it could be excruciating at times as well. "Just a friend," Raylan half-lied.

"Okay. I just didn't want...I mean, if he had been, I just didn't want you to feel like you couldn't say a proper goodbye because I was there. I'd have waited for you downstairs."

"Jesus, Dad," Raylan sighed. "Look, that's nice of you to say, but it's fine. He's just some dude who lives down the hall, and yes, I realize he is very obviously gay, but that doesn't automatically mean I'm dating him. Alright?"

He was getting worked up over nothing, and he was smart enough to know why he was doing that. He was sure his father knew too, but he suddenly felt like shit about it. He wasn't the only one who was devastated by his mother's death. 

"I'm sorry," he blurted, as they exited the elevator. "I'm an asshole. You were being nice and I yelled at you. I'm just...I don't know what to do right now. I don't know how to..."

Craig patted him on the back as they left the dorm, but didn't say anything. He didn't speak until they'd been on the road a little while, then said, "I'm picking up Helen from the airport in the morning. The funeral is on Saturday, and you'll fly out with her on Sunday morning."

"Okay," Raylan answered, then looked back out the side window. He didn't want to go to Harlan, Kentucky. He didn't want to meet his aunt. He only wanted to be back in his dorm, doing his work, maybe getting laid, later drinking some beer and ordering a goddamn pizza. He wanted to be doing what everyone else was doing, not riding back to his home where his mother no longer was, and would never be again. 

Craig spent most of the two hour drive talking in short bursts about the practical details of what was going to happen - what time the service would be, who the minister was, what songs Frances had requested - and then falling silent for long stretches. Raylan understood that this was how his dad was managing to hold it together, but it wasn't Raylan's preference. Complete silence would be a hell of a lot better, in his opinion. 

 

Helen Givens had never been on an airplane in her life, and she had never particularly cared, or wished for it. Still, it made her sad that the new experience was coming to her only because her big sister had died. It seemed pathetic. She had always thought one of these days she'd go and visit Frances and her family, but she could never bring it up with Arlo. 

Her decision to marry him was one that a lot of people had found hard to swallow. She'd regretted it more than a few times herself over the years, but she had long since accepted the consequences of her own choices. 

She'd never met her sister's husband, nor had she seen her nephew since he was a toddler, but she'd heard plenty about both of them- especially Raylan, who Frances always had stories about when they'd have their monthly phone call. 

Frances had always been proud of him, had sent her pictures as he grew up tall and handsome. She heard about his baseball playing, about when he took up the guitar, she heard about all his girlfriends, and his one boyfriend who had thrown Frances for a loop, for a time. He was an open, confident boy who carried himself with ease through life, or so it seemed to Helen. 

Craig Baker met her at the airport, and while it was probably unfair to judge a man in the depths of his grief, her first impression was that he was kind, but soft, like he'd never faced any real adversity. That must have been attractive to Frances, such a contrast to someone like Arlo, though Helen knew it had worn thin at times during their marriage. It wasn't what she'd been raised to believe a man should be. 

When she met her nephew - who Craig referred to as Ray, but Frances always said the full name - she was struck by how at ease he seemed to be, how confident and trusting.

Over dinner, he asked her questions about Harlan, but avoided anything that might lead to a discussion about Arlo. Mostly he wanted to know about where she and Frances had lived as children. She knew he'd need to hear about him eventually, even if he didn't want to. 

The funeral was small, but Helen could tell the people there had known and loved her sister well. She cried the whole time, because was so glad things had worked out for her, but felt she'd lost out on knowing her like he could have, if she'd stayed. Then again, had she stayed, she wouldn't have been the same person. And her son wouldn't have grown up to be who he was. She shuddered to think of what he might have become, or what Arlo might have done to him. 

That night, Helen went to his room and asked if they could talk. He was subdued, and had obviously been crying but wasn't now. She sat on the side of his bed, where he was propped up, reading a book. She glanced at the title - _The Stand_. He was almost to the end.

"Is that any good?" she asked.

Raylan nodded. "I like it. I'm almost done, you can have this copy if you want. To read on the plane, or whatever."

She smiled. "I ain't too fond of horror stories," she said.

"This one's not so much like that. It's mostly about the terrible things people do to each other."

Her smile turned sad and she said, "Well, I know all about that, honey. In fact, I got some things I need to explain to you that your mama might not have gone into. And they ain't all pretty. You gonna be alright hearing it?"

Raylan shrugged. "If I need to hear it, what's the point of asking?"

Helen wanted to laugh at this boy. He was so sure he knew what was what. She was afraid he might be in for a rude awakening in Harlan.

"Alright then," she said. "Your mama told you that I'm married to Arlo, your biological father." That wasn't a question. She'd had that conversation with Frances, for when the time came. Raylan nodded anyhow. 

"I could never understand that," Raylan said. "I mean, I don't have any siblings, but...I have a hard time understanding how you could marry someone who treated your own sister that way. My mom always told me that she understood why, and I shouldn't judge other people for their choices, because no one knows what's in anyone's heart."

Helen was quiet for a minute, trying to stay composed. She looked at the boy, who seemed so innocent of all the pain that's possible in the world. He'd learn; everyone did eventually.

"I fell in love with Arlo Givens when I was but fifteen years old. It's harder to see it now, him being so broke down by life and his own choices, but he was charming back then. Specially to a young girl from the hills. I didn't know nothing."

Raylan was listening, and she knew he had to crave information about the man who had given him half his DNA, if not much else. It would be strange not to wonder. 

"My daddy forced me to break up with him. Said he was trash, and too old for me. Then, six months later, they start up the lottery for the draft, and his number come up in the first round. He was to go off to Vietnam, and he came to see me, begging me to write to him, be his girl while he was overseas. I allowed as I would, but then he started trying to...well, do what a boy might naturally be inclined to do, but I wouldn't let him. I was a virgin, I was too young, and my daddy woulda killed both of us."

Raylan was frowning now, like he might see exactly where this sad little tale might end. 

"He played her, honey," she told him, patting his knee. "He was real good at that. Told her how scared he was to go off to the war, which I know, at least, that was true. 'Bout three months later, he's already gone, and she finally breaks down and tells me she ain't had her monthlies for way too long, and what happened. I stayed with her while she told our daddy. He said Arlo would marry her, or he'd put a bullet in him, and he meant it."

Raylan was frowning deeply. "Weren't you mad at her? She must have known you loved him."

"Oh, child, the people who love you can hurt you so much, in so many ways, but if it's real love, you can always get past the hurt. Your mama and I were sisters. We were family, and that means more than you can maybe understand right now. So I forgave her for that, and she forgave me for him, later."

"Okay," he said, clearly not really getting it, but some day he might. 

"Now, you and me are heading to Harlan tomorrow morning. And on that subject, it's very important that you understand some hard truths. Growing up how you have, in this place, you're used to being a certain way, being honest about yourself, and that's beautiful, it really is. But-"

"Don't tell anyone I like boys. Got it. I doubt it'll come up. Though I can't imagine what you think would actually happen."

She laughed harshly and said, "I know you can't, boy. That's why I'm telling you. Just keep a low profile. And that includes your- that includes Arlo."

Raylan looked mutinous, but he nodded anyway. She could tell he was planning to keep his own council on that one, and she could only hope he did the smart thing. 

 

Raylan tried not to dwell too much on his conversation with his aunt. He was old enough to know that he didn't know everything, although that was more of an intellectual understanding than anything else. At any rate, he didn't want to think anything bad about his mother right now. 

The other stuff - Helen warning him about what he shouldn't reveal about himself - bothered him more, at the moment. He knew Kentucky wasn't like the Portland suburbs, he knew it was pretty backward in a lot of ways, but he thought maybe she was seeing things through the filter of her own generation's attitudes. He couldn't imagine anything worse than a little name-calling, and he'd experienced a little of that even here. It was no big deal to him, not compared to living in secrecy. Still, he doubted there would be a reason to volunteer the information, so it didn't matter that much.

The flight was long, but the ride from Lexington to Harlan somehow seemed even longer. Helen didn't push him much for conversation, and he didn't ask many questions. They left each other to their own thoughts. 

They pulled up in front of a good-sized house with dirty white clapboard. Raylan hadn't been thinking too much about what Arlo Givens might be like, but suddenly he was nervous. This was, technically, his father. He'd lived here, with this man, for the first two years of his life. 

Helen led him inside the house, to a table by a big window, where a middle-aged man was sitting with a drink in front of him. He looked up, examined Raylan almost clinically, then said, "Well. I see you grew up to look mostly like Frances. You drink whiskey, or is that too strong for a boy like you?"

"No sir," Raylan said carefully, "Not too strong, I mean. I'd like a drink, if you're offering."

Arlo nodded at him to sit down and told Helen to bring another glass. Even if Raylan hadn't been predisposed to hate this guy, he'd still hate him after knowing him for all of a minute. What a dick.

"I hear you're in college," Arlo said, "Studying what?"

"Uh, Spanish," Raylan replied, certain that this was going to be a less than satisfactory answer, in Arlo's opinion. He quickly found out that he was correct. 

"What the hell you want to do that for?" he sneered in response. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, if that ain't the most useless thing I ever heard."

"I was hoping to travel," Raylan said, "maybe live overseas for awhile." He knew he was making things worse, and he was almost glad of it. "Then I thought maybe I'd teach in an inner city where there are a lot of kids with Spanish as their first language. Try to make a difference." And that was a complete fabrication, just an utter damn lie. Raylan had never considered any such thing, but it had the intended effect.

Arlo's face twisted up in disgust. Raylan calmly sipped at the drink in front of him and listened quietly as the man went off about bleeding hearts and his son being a goddamn pussy. 

Raylan wanted _so badly_ in that moment to tell him he was also a cocksucker, but he caught Helen's face. He thought she probably knew what was going through his mind, and she was begging him not to do it. He was afraid it might make things bad for her, somehow, so he pushed it down. 

He finished the drink and stood up. Arlo had stopped speaking by then, but Raylan didn't respond at all. There was obviously no point to it, and ultimately he didn't give a shit what this stranger thought of him. He turned to Helen and asked her to show him where he could put his things. 

The next day was Thanksgiving, and they had a small but delicious meal. Helen was a good cook, and she made some things his mother used to make - collard greens with bacon, and amazing biscuits - and some other things he'd never had. He wondered if she had been trying to shake off some of her roots, but he thought that was sad, because clearly the food was one of the good parts. 

Raylan spent most of his time on his own, reading or walking in the woods near the house. He spent some of it talking to Helen, when Arlo wasn't around, and he found he did like her. She was easy to talk to, and she wanted to hear about how he'd grown up, what his favorite memories of his mother were, things like that. 

On Saturday, there was a small memorial service at the house, for family and old friends of Helen's. There were some extremely backwoods looking people in attendance, and he shook all their hands. He tried to be extra friendly, because he'd heard Arlo speaking disdainfully about them earlier. As if he was some kind of high class citizen. They mostly told him the names of various people whose features they believed him to have, which dissolved into a debate amongst themselves before long. 

There was a large, loud man, speaking towards the center of the gathering as if he owned the place, as if he were hosting a party. He went to Helen to ask who he was, and she said, "Oh, well. That's Bo Crowder. He's a big man around these parts. He likes to play mayor, if you understand me. That there's his son Boyd." She points to a skinny, dark-haired boy next to him. "He's got another one, Bowman, but he ain't here, so far's I can see. His wife was close with Frances at school. She's gone now too, some years back."

The boy was looking around, seeming to catalogue his surroundings. He caught sight of Raylan watching him, and he strolled over, hands in his pockets. 

"I'm Boyd Crowder," he said, extending his hand. 

"Raylan Baker," he replied. "Most people call me Ray. My mother was the only one who used that name. And my aunt Helen, I guess."

"My daddy said our mamas were friends when we was babies, so I guess I've met you before," Boyd said. He winked. "Can't say I remember, though."

Raylan grinned. This kid had something different about him, something off in an interesting way. He said, "I feel like I'd remember if we had," and noticed Boyd doing a very slight double take. Very interesting.

"I'm real sorry about your mama, Raylan." The name sounded right on his tongue, natural, like when his mother would say it. 

"Thanks," Raylan said. He looked at the people huddled around the kitchen table, old people he didn't know, who wanted to treat him like he was family, and felt like he needed to get the hell out of there. "Hey, you want to go somewhere?" he asked Boyd. "Is there a bar we can get into, or I don't know, maybe someone has weed, or something?"

Boyd smiles big at him and says, "Well surely, Raylan. I believe I can accommodate you." He looked at him critically, taking in his longish, shaggy hair and his Joy Division t-shirt, and said, "We need to stop by my house first."

 

Boyd Crowder's first thought upon seeing Raylan Givens was, _that boy sticks out like a sore thumb_. He knew Raylan lived in the northwest somewhere, and he supposed maybe he fit in there, because he certainly didn't carry himself like an outcast. 

After he'd introduced himself, the kid had looked him right in the eye and grinned at him, and Boyd had felt a weird sort of jolt in his stomach. He wasn't sure what that had been about, but he was glad when Raylan said he wanted to hang out. 

Boyd brought him back to the house, where Bowman was on the couch watching tv and trying to make time with Ava, as usual. He'd looked up and sneered briefly at Raylan, but Boyd didn't bother to introduce him. Bo hadn't forced Bowman to go to the little memorial service, and had only made Boyd do it because he said that was the kind of thing expected of a man, and a leader in a community.

They went up to his room and he rooted in his shirt drawer until he found a more suitable shirt. He tossed it to Raylan, who held it up and grimaced at it. Even Boyd had to admit it was pretty bad, but the idea of this college boy wearing it was pretty funny. 

"Go on, put it on. Trust me."

Raylan raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and dropped it on the bed before peeling off his own. Boyd's face suddenly and unexpectedly flushed, and he turned away quickly, heading to the closet. By the time he turned back around, Raylan had the new shirt on and was looking at himself in the dresser mirror.

"God Bless the USA," Raylan said, wrinkling up his nose. “Seriously, man, you wear this?" He gestured at the eagle pictured in front of the giant flag graphic. 

Boyd snickered and said, "Not really. Daddy gave it to me for Christmas. It is admittedly a bit much, but I feel we have to overcompensate for a hippie such as yourself. Here." He reached up with the John Deere cap he'd pulled from the top of his closet and settled it on Raylan's head. He laughed maybe a little louder than necessary, to cover up the way his heart sped up when he did that. 

"There," he said, "Now you look like less of a fag. You're safe to be seen in public."

Raylan snorted and said, "I don't give a shit if some rednecks think I'm a fag."

"Yes, Raylan, you do. You certainly should, unless trouble is what you're looking for tonight. I suppose, if that's really what you want, we could seek that out."

Raylan stared at him for a moment, maybe trying to figure out if he meant it, which he did. Then he smiled at Boyd and said, "No, that's not what I'm in the mood for. I can think of better ways to spend my time than that."

Boyd blinked, then mentally shook himself and said, "Alright then, let's go, boy. I'm taking you to Audrey's." They walk out to the truck, and Boyd glanced over at him. "They got whores there too, you got the money and inclination."

Raylan laughed, and it was a bright sound, almost like he was fucking delighted. "Do I look like I need to pay for it?" he asked.

Jesus, this kid was full of himself. But since he'd asked, Boyd had to admit that no, he certainly did not look like he had to pay for it. He looked like he could probably pull any girl he wanted. 

"Sometimes people pay for it with money so's they don't end up having to pay for it in other ways," Boyd answers. 

Raylan was shaking his head as they climb into the cab. "I don't believe in all that. If I sleep with someone, they're an equal, I don't feel like I have to offer some sort of tribute. They want to be with me, I want to be with them, no strings attached and no bullshit.”

"What if they do get attached?" 

"I always let them know up front, they're free to take that risk or not," Raylan said, a bit self-righteously in Boyd's opinion.

"Sounds a little simplistic to me," Boyd replies. "No one knows how they're gonna feel about something before it happens. You telling me none of the girls you've screwed, however many hundreds that may be, ever got pissed and felt like you owed them more than you gave them?"

Raylan frowned a little and said, "You don't know anything about me, man."

"Hunter S. Thompson said that sex without love is as ridiculous as love without sex."

Raylan raised his eyebrows at him and said, "Well, who said I didn't love them?"

They pulled up outside of Audrey's, where it looked like a fair-sized crowd was already starting to build. 

"Doesn't anyone drive anything except a truck?" Raylan asked, smirking. "I honestly didn't expect Kentucky to be such a stereotype."

Boyd just rolled his eyes and sighed, "Come on." Raylan followed him into the joint, muttering about the George Strait blaring, and talking about how he guessed there wouldn't be any Pavement on the jukebox, whatever the fuck that was.

They sat, ordered drinks, and then Boyd turned to look right at this arrogant, dismissive asshole. He was all geared up to tell him to shut the fuck up, when the boy smiled at him and he forgot everything he was going to say.

"Thanks for hanging out," Raylan said. "I don't think I could have handled being around that scene anymore."

"Oh," Boyd said, "well, that's alright. I know sort of how it is, anyway. I lost my mama when I was twelve."

Raylan's face fell, and he said, "Twelve. Shit. That's rough, man. I'm sorry."

Boyd shrugged. "You get along with your stepdaddy?"

"My...oh. Yeah. I mean, I don't think of him that way. He's just my dad. I don't remember him not being around, so..."

Boyd nodded and said, "What do you think of Arlo?" He said it as neutrally as he could, but he knew the stories about Raylan's mother, why she'd left. And he knew what most people thought of Arlo Givens.

"I think he's an asshole," Raylan replied. "And a loser. Fuck that dude, man, he's not my father. He's nobody to me."

They finish their round of drinks and order another. Boyd tells Raylan how he's signed up to join the Army, and he's scheduled to report for training in two weeks.

"I'll be going to Iraq," he says.

"Why would you do that?" Raylan asked, a look of horrified fascination on his face.

"You don't get it," Boyd said, trying to be patient, "I can't afford college. And there ain't no jobs here but the goddamn mine, and I believe I've had enough of that to last a lifetime already since I graduated high school. I gotta do something."

Raylan looked at him, almost concerned. Then he said, "Well then, this round of drinks is on me. We'll drink to...what? Your safe return? Or to getting out of this godforsaken town?"

Boyd's eyes flashed. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, Givens, but I've had just about enough of your superior goddamn attitude about my home. And it's your home too, by the fucking way. You've just been gone too long to remember."

"My name's not Givens," Raylan said. "It's Baker. But I hear you. Sorry."

Boyd shook his head and picked up his glass, holding it up in a toast. He said, "If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise."

Raylan's eyes widened a little bit, and he asked, "Who said that?"

"Yeats," Boyd replied. "You're surprised because you think I'm just some ignorant hillbilly. You shouldn't be so quick to assume you know about people."

"Neither should you," Raylan replied, clinking their glasses together and downing his in one big gulp. Boyd can see the effort it's taking him not to cough, and he looks away with a small smile playing on his face. 

"Hey, you know what?" Boyd asked, suddenly animated. "I got something I want to show you tomorrow night. Unless you got family shit you gotta do or something?"

"Not really," Raylan said. "At some point I'm supposed to scatter my mother's ashes up in the hills where she lived when she was a kid. I figured I'd have Helen bring me up there, because I have no idea where to go."

"Your mama came from a hill clan?" Boyd smiled. "Boy, you got even more Harlan cred than me. Them people are the real deal. And it just so happens, that's where I wanted to take you anyhow."

Raylan raised his brows in a question, and Boyd just said, "It's cool. You'll like it."

Raylan shrugged and asked if he wanted another round. They drank one more each, then Boyd drove him home slowly over winding mountain roads. 

Before Raylan got out, he looked at Boyd quietly for a moment, like maybe he was trying to figure something out, or make a decision. Finally, he just huffed a quiet little sigh and said, "Okay. Guess I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Around seven," Boyd said. "Dress warm, we're gonna be outside."

 

It took Raylan a long time to fall asleep after Boyd dropped him off. He couldn't figure that kid out. In some ways, he seemed like a caricature of a southern shitkicker, almost like he was cultivating that image, but then he'd quote literature at you, or say something that made you realize you've been looking at something all wrong. Raylan wasn't sure what Boyd wanted people to believe about him, or if maybe he  
was just trying to be confusing.

Raylan was pretty sure the boy was attracted to him, he'd definitely gotten something off of him, and that thought sent a rush of warmth through his lower body. Raylan closed his eyes and thought of Boyd's hazel ones, and his long, slender fingers. His whole body was slim, and probably wired with the kind of muscles men like him develop. Work muscles, not gym muscles. Raylan grinned at that idea and reached into his boxers.

He jerked off quickly and, clenching his jaw against the urge to cry out, came with the image of Boyd on his knees, staring up at him with those crazy, beautiful eyes, running through his head. 

It seemed like a goddamn age before seven o'clock the next night rolled around. When Arlo asked him at dinner what he'd changed his clothes for, and he'd told him he was hanging out with Boyd, Arlo had cackled.

"You changed your shirt to go drinking with that little shit? You sweet on him or something?" 

He cracked himself up even harder with that, and was still laughing when Raylan said, "What if I was? You got some kind of problem with that?"

Helen was staring at him, flashing a warning. He wasn't an idiot, he certainly hadn't expected this man to be in any way enlightened about anything, but he didn't really see why he should try to tiptoe around him. He was never going to see the old man again after he left at the end of the week.

Arlo was also staring, but in a much more hostile way. "You trying to tell me you're some kinda faggot? I knew Frances and that pansy she married would screw you up, cause it certainly ain't my blood."

Raylan stood up then, wondering if he could hold his own in a fight with this guy. He hadn't fought anyone since the fifth grade, and that was mostly a shoving match. Fortunately, Helen stepped in between them and said, "Arlo Givens, this boy just lost his mama. You watch your damn mouth. And Raylan, sit down. He don't mean no harm, he's just an evil old bastard sometimes."

Raylan was in the living room when he heard Boyd's truck pull up in front. He called to Helen in the kitchen that he was leaving, grabbed the little sealed urn that contained his mother's remains, and was out the door fast. He didn't want to risk any kind of bullshit with Arlo. 

"Hey, Raylan," Boyd said as he slid into the passenger seat. "I see you brought your mama."

Raylan made a face. "That's not her, man. It's just dust. I'll do it because she wanted it, but I'm not fooling myself it makes any real difference."

Boyd nodded. "I couldn't agree with you more, son. Much as I'd like to think of my own mama watching over me, by the time she died I was a little too old for fairy tales. Still, there's a beauty to holding up a promise that you made to someone you loved, even when no one else but you will ever know."

"I suppose so," Raylan replied. "So how far away is this place?"

"Not too far, distance-wise, but it's a different world, Raylan." He smiled. "And I brought some of their native libations along." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a jar, handing it to Raylan.

"Would this be moonshine?" Raylan asked, "Or is that somehow offensive to ask?"

"It is indeed moonshine, from my daddy's own still. Feel free to open it up and get started, but I warn you, it ain't for the faint of heart."

Raylan rolled his eyes. Clearly Boyd Crowder thought he was some kind of soft city boy. And maybe he sort of was, compared to these people around here, to be perfectly honest, but he liked this boy. He didn't want him to think he was weak. 

He unscrewed the lid and sniffed, jerking his head back at the sharp astringent smell. He braced himself and took a sip, then immediately choked and started coughing. He managed to get the lid back on so it wouldn't spill, and when he finally got his breath back, he realized Boyd was laughing at him. 

"I did warn you," Boyd said. 

"Jesus Christ," Raylan said. 

They drove farther and farther into the hills, and eventually there was no light anywhere except for the headlights stretching out in front of them, and the moon. 

Boyd pulled the truck over on the shoulder, picked up the jar from the seat in between them, and said, "Well, come on if you're coming."

They walked down into a ravine, then up a steep embankment on the other side. As they got towards the top, Raylan could hear talking and laughing, then the high, warbling sound of a banjo. He looked over at Boyd, who grinned and whispered, "Just a little closer. Over here." 

They walked further along, until they came to a large boulder. They sat leaning against it, on the opposite side of where the music was coming from. 

"What is this?" Raylan asked. 

"Every weekend they do this," Boyd said. They just gather and play music. It's fucking beautiful, Raylan. Just listen. It's your people."

Raylan frowned. These weren't his people. He would have almost liked to be able to claim that, to claim them, in that moment, but he knew it was bullshit. Still, he did listen. And it was very beautiful. They leaned back and stared up at the stars visible through the treetops. 

Boyd opened the jar of moonshine and drank from it, seeming remarkably unaffected by it. Raylan took a few more very small sips, enough to start feeling a little warmer, a little looser. He looked over at Boyd, who had closed his eyes and was smiling faintly. A girl's high, sweet voice drifted through an open window. 

"Hey, Boyd?" Raylan said, after awhile.

Boyd looked over at him and smiled. "Yes, Raylan?" he answered, drawing out his name in a way that Raylan just loved. 

"This is really great. Thanks for bringing me here."

"I'm glad you like it." Boyd looked away and closed his eyes again.

"This is probably - no, definitely - by far, the most romantic date I've ever been on." 

Boyd's eyes snapped open, and he asked, "What did you say?"

"I said it was the most romantic date I've been on."

Boyd looked at him, frowning. "I can't tell if you're joking."

Raylan frowned back and said, "That's because I'm not."

"This ain't any date, Raylan. What the hell's wrong with you, boy?"

Raylan knew that was bullshit. He wasn't having it. "Are you sure, Boyd? Because it really feels like one. I mean, I've been on a lot of dates." He leaned into Boyd's shoulder and stayed there. Boyd wasn't answering yet, but hadn't moved away either, so Raylan went on. "I was really hoping it was, because I've been wanting to kiss you all night."

"You- you want..." Boyd was looking at him out of the corners of his eyes, and he looked pretty scared. Raylan felt a little bad for him. He didn't seem like the kind of person who was scared of many things, so this was probably difficult for him.

"I want you to kiss me," Raylan said, leaning forward and craning around to try to look him full in the face. "I think you want to, right?"

Boyd nodded slowly, then turned toward Raylan and pushed forward into a soft, tentative kiss. Raylan smiled into it and brought his hand up to Boyd's face, pulling him closer, kissing him more firmly and pushing his lips apart with his tongue. 

Boyd made some kind of noise when Raylan did that, and it was hard to describe, but it sounded equally desperate and joyful, and it immediately made his dick hard. They kissed for a long time, and it reminded Raylan of ninth grade, kissing Dana Kelley in her parents' basement. They would make out for hours, until his balls were aching, but she would never touch him. After a few months she let him get on top of her, and they'd dry humped until he came in his pants. She couldn't look at him after that, and they'd broken up. 

He slid a hand up Boyd's thigh, and he jerked his body backwards. "Sorry," Raylan said breathlessly, moving his hand higher, to his ribs. A little while later, Raylan took his hand and pulled it down between his legs, but Boyd slipped free of his grasp and put his hand on Raylan's shoulder. 

Finally, Raylan pushed himself back, panting, and said, "What's wrong?"

Boyd shook his head quickly, eyes squeezed shut. "Nothing, I just- I never- I didn't expect this."

"It's okay if you don't want to do anything. But I need to stop, because this is driving me crazy."

"Yeah," Boyd laughed softy, "me too. I'm sorry, Raylan, I ain't like you, I haven't-"

"No, that's okay. I get it." He leaned his head back on the boulder and listened to the bluegrass while he let himself finish coming down from their make out session. It was nice, in a way. It had been exciting, and he really liked this boy. He thought maybe he could see him again before he went home. 

Boyd stood up after awhile and offered a hand down to help him up. Raylan smiled up at him and took it. "A gentleman," he said. 

Boyd shot him an uncomfortable glance, then said, "You should get the ashes. I know a good place."

"Okay," Raylan replied. He retrieved them from the truck and followed Boyd until they came to a small stream against the side of the mountain, and a little clearing with moss-covered rocks. It was a beautiful place, idyllic, strange.

Boyd seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and he said, "This is a fairy tale place, Raylan. Maybe there's even magic here. Old magic."

Raylan looked at him to see if he was fucking with him, somehow, but his face was serious and he looked back with a steady gaze. Raylan nodded and unscrewed the top of the urn. He squatted on one of the slippery rocks and let the ashes flow into the gently moving water, bright silver in the moonlight. 

He felt a lump in his throat, and he wasn't even sure why. He hadn't even been thinking of his mother, even while he poured the rest of her physical body into the stream. He let tears slide down his face unhindered, because crying was nothing to be ashamed of at a time like this. Even the hardest of men cry for their mothers, and Raylan knew he wasn't a hard man at all. 

He thought of Arlo, and wondered how hard he might have been forced to be if he'd grown up with him, in this place. No wonder Boyd had been afraid to go any further with him. There was a risk in that for Boyd that had never existed for him. 

When the urn was empty, he stood up and climbed back across the rocks to the bank. Boyd had been watching him the whole time, and took his arm as he stepped onto the earth again. He pulled him in and kissed him, pressing himself against the full length of Raylan's body, then wrapped his arms around him. Raylan sank his face into Boyd's shearling jacket and cried a little more, for his mother, he supposed. 

Boyd took him back to Arlo and Helen's house after that, and Raylan thought about him again as he fell asleep. He didn't beat off this time, despite how turned on he'd been earlier. He thought about Boyd hugging him, and about him going off to Iraq, which seemed like the worst thing ever, in his opinion. He wanted to see Boyd again before he left; he felt like there was something he needed to explain, though he wasn't quite sure what it was. 

His flight was at six the following evening, and Helen told him over breakfast that she wanted him ready to leave by 2:30. 

Arlo had left the room, and Raylan was helping to clear the table, when Helen asked in a low voice, "You want me to take you up into the hills to scatter them ashes, now?"

Raylan shook his head. "Boyd Crowder took me up there last night. I put them in a stream. It felt like a good place."

Helen frowned at him, very seriously, and said, "Did you mean what you said to Arlo last night? Is he- I mean, did the two of you..."

"I might have meant it," he said, "but I can't speak for him." It seemed like a bad idea to expose Boyd, even to Helen. He hadn't been aware of, or really believed, the danger when he first arrived, but it had crept up all around him during his time here. He was leaving, so that was fine, but Boyd lived here. Raylan wasn't going to do that to him. 

"His family is powerful around these parts, Raylan. Dangerous. You don't want to mess with that."

God, the whole thing was so weird. This place, the people. Even Boyd was pretty damn weird, but he wore it like a beacon, and none of these hicks seemed to notice or care that he wasn't like them, that he didn't really fit in. He was hiding in plain sight. 

They hadn't made plans to get together, and after Helen's warning, the idea of going over to the Crowders' home wasn't very appealing, if he could even remember how to get there. The idea of leaving without seeing him again seemed worse, so unfinished and unsatisfying, so he asked Helen if he could borrow her truck. 

He'd only gotten as far as the end of the dirt driveway when he saw Boyd stand up from where he'd been sitting on the metal guardrail along the shoulder. Raylan put the truck in neutral and hung his elbows and head out of the driver's side window. 

"What a coincidence," he said. "I was just coming to find you."

"Wasn't no coincidence," Boyd smirked. "I thought you might try that, and I wanted to head you off. How long you got?"

"A few hours," Raylan replied. "I have to be back by like two."

Boyd walked around and got into the truck. "You can drive," he said. "I'll tell you where to go."

He directed Raylan down a series of increasingly obscure-looking roads until he finally told him to pull over and park in the low brush at the edge of a stand of trees. They got out, and Raylan followed him down a path that was barely there. He could hear water, and they eventually came to a place where a creek had widened, and there was dappled sunlight across the surface. 

"Wow," Raylan breathed.

Boyd grinned at him. "It's beautiful, ain't it? If it was summer we could swim in here."

"Oh," Raylan said. "I wish it was. That sounds nice."

They sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, and stayed quiet for awhile. After a few minutes, Raylan snaked an arm around his waist, and Boyd sighed and said, "You probably shouldn't start something I can't finish."

"You don't have to do anything," Raylan said, then pulled his face around to kiss him. "I'll do everything. Let me." He pulled back slightly to find Boyd staring at him, his eyes wide and dark. He settled a hand lightly over Boyd's crotch and said again, very softly, "Let me."

Boyd kissed him hard then and whispered, "Alright. Yes, do it, please."

Raylan kissed him some more, working open his jeans with one hand and pushing the other one up under Boyd's shirt to rub at his nipple. That earned him a gasp, and a hitch of Boyd's hips into his hand. 

The front of Boyd's underpants was already soaked with pre-come, and he groaned obscenely as Raylan rubbed him through the fabric. Raylan shuddered and sank to his knees in front of Boyd. The boy looked down at him, fear and excitement warring in his face, then pulled his cock out of his shorts. 

Raylan smiled and leaned forward, sliding his mouth slowly down the length of him, then just as slowly back up. 

"Oh, fuck," Boyd whispered, digging his fingers into Raylan's shoulder. "Raylan."

Raylan continued at this pace and reached for himself. He'd promised Boyd he wouldn't have to do anything, and besides, he wasn't sure he could wait. This was the hottest thing that had happened to him in a long time. Boyd was so excited, moaning and whispering his name. 

When he felt Boyd lose it, he held on tight and took him as deep as he could while he stroked himself faster, shooting his come into the dirt between his knees. He pulled off and rested his head against Boyd's thigh for a minute, while Boyd absently ran his fingers through his hair. It felt so nice, he hardly wanted to get up.

He finally lifted his head, and Boyd surprised him by sliding down to his knees next to him. He took hold of Raylan's hands and looked straight at him. "Thank you," he said.

Raylan shook his head and leaned in to kiss him. "No need," he said. "I love sucking cock. You should try it some time."

Boyd laughed and said, "Some time, maybe."

They straightened themselves out, and it was getting cold, so Boyd suggested they hike for awhile. Raylan talked about school, and when Boyd asked, he told him about the people he'd dated, about his string of high school girlfriends and the one boyfriend, who had sort of freaked his mother out. 

"Not my dad, though," he said. "Isn't that funny? Usually you hear about the dad being angry."

"You told them, just like that? 'I'm gonna bring a boy home next, just so's you know...'" 

"Yeah, pretty much," Raylan said. "I mean, I'd never said anything before because I wasn't sure. I didn't know how it would be when it was real. Then I met this guy, and we fooled around, and I figured it was real enough I ought to tell them."

Boyd just frowned down at his feet as he walked, and Raylan felt a little guilty. He was showing off, and he knew it. It wasn't Boyd's fault he couldn't do what he'd done.

"I was lucky," he said, stopping and putting his hand on Boyd's arm. "I'm not judging you."

"I don't need your pity, Raylan. I can handle my own business in my own way just fine."

"Yeah," Raylan said, "I know. Sorry."

He didn't know what else to say after that. He'd felt like an asshole before he said it, and even more of one after. He couldn't recall being this wrong-footed with anyone before. 

They hiked back to the truck, and he drove Boyd back to where he'd parked his, down the road a bit from the Givens house. 

"I guess I won't see any more of you around here," Boyd said. 

"Probably not," Raylan said. He felt really bad, all at once, like he had a lead ball in his stomach. Anything he thought about saying sounded awful and stupid. He couldn't possibly say, "It was nice meeting you" to this boy, whose dick he'd just sucked, and who had helped him dispose of his mother's ashes and comforted him after. This boy felt like someone he'd known a long time, someone he'd always know, but right now that didn't look like a possibility. 

"Well, goodbye, Raylan," Boyd said, when Raylan didn't say anything else.

"Yeah...no, wait, Boyd. Can I write to you? When you're over in Iraq, I mean."

Boyd settled back in the passenger seat and considered him. "Is that for real, or is that something you're saying now but you won't feel like doing later? Because I don't doubt your sincerity in the moment, but I would ask you to be honest with yourself and me here. I don't want to be in the desert, waiting for letters that never come because you're too busy fucking everyone in your dorm."

"I want to," Raylan said. "I really want to."

Boyd nodded. "Alright, then. Give me your address and I'll write you with mine when I know it. But Raylan, you gotta be careful what you write. It's the Army, you know?"

"Yeah, of course." Raylan grinned at him. "I'll be the model of discretion." He rooted in the glove box and came up with a broken pencil and an old torn envelope. When he handed Boyd the address, he grasped his hand. "This sounds stupid, I know, but I'm really glad I met you."

"So am I, Raylan Givens," Boyd said in a soft voice, still looking at him with that wondering, but slightly skeptical expression. 

"It's Baker," Raylan said, but he smiled at him. "Bye," he added as Boyd slipped out of the truck. He'd really wanted to kiss him, but somehow he'd felt like Boyd wouldn't want it now. Raylan didn't know why, and he didn't really understand why he felt so strongly about this kid. 

There were better looking boys, not to mention plenty of beautiful girls who would like to be with him, and who didn't live in some shit hole town in Kentucky. Yet for some reason this one had gotten under his skin in a way he couldn't remember experiencing before. 

He thought maybe it was just because he knew he couldn't have him, because he was far away. Or maybe all the emotions about his mother had opened some kind of door and let this pretentious hillbilly in. 

It was just before two when he came into the house, and went right upstairs to pack up his stuff. Helen was in the kitchen when he came back down, talking to Arlo. Raylan walked over and stiffly held out a hand to him. Arlo looked at him almost suspiciously, but shook it. 

"It was good to meet you Arlo," he said, even though they both knew he was lying. 

Arlo nodded at him, then said, "Best get on your way. Don't want to be late getting back to that college of yours."

"Right," Raylan said. "Well, goodbye."

On the ride to Lexington, Helen was quiet for awhile, but Raylan could tell she had something to say. She waited until they were outside of Harlan city limits before saying, "Raylan, I know this ain't none of my business, and you and I ain't close enough to warrant meddling, but you ain't got much left in the way of family, so I'm gonna ask it anyways. What's going on with you and the Crowder boy? Were you just trying to get a rise out of Arlo, or is there something there?"

"Helen," Raylan began, then rubbed his neck like it was sore. "You already warned me about his family, I get it. I don't live here though, so it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"It could matter for _him_ , Raylan. If anything got around-"

"How could it? He certainly won't be telling anyone, will he?" Raylan was irritated now, and he didn't like how discouraging she was being, at all. 

"So, whatever happened, happened, and that's it, then? You ain't planning to stay in touch or nothing?"

Raylan didn't answer, just scowled out the window. 

"You're playing a dangerous game, boy," Helen said after awhile. "Dangerous for him, which I hope you have the decency to be concerned about. He don't live in your world."

"Maybe he should," Raylan muttered, then more loudly, "He's old enough to make his own choices, Helen. What would you have him do? Stay here and be miserable and never get what he wants?"

"Sounds like you think you know a lot about him after only a few days."

"I like him," Raylan said stubbornly. And Boyd liked him, he was pretty sure. 

 

The sense of relief Boyd felt when he'd driven away from Raylan was intense, but had dissipated by the time he'd reached his home. It was replaced by a familiar ache. That was loneliness, he supposed, which he'd always felt, but which he felt more sharply now, after experiencing its absence even for a brief time. 

He'd been anxious to leave Raylan, after what had happened at the creek, and their conversation after. He knew Raylan hadn't meant any harm, but it did cut a bit to hear about the ways things were better for him, easier. 

And what they'd done - what Raylan had done, anyway - had been so amazing, and he'd been beautiful after, laying his head down so sweetly on Boyd's leg. It was hard to get his head around it, that it could be tender in a way, not just dirty the way it had always made him feel when he thought about it, jerked off about it. 

But that cut him too, because it was all bullshit. Regardless of how Raylan had acted towards him, this had never been more than a bit of fun for him. For Boyd, it was possibly something that would change things, depending on what he decided he needed more - his freedom, or his family.

Boyd kept the address of Raylan's dorm, though, and packed it with his belongings to bring to Basic. He'd told him they'd write, and Boyd was going to hold up his end by sending the first letter. He really didn't expect to ever hear back, but he dutifully wrote a letter the first week he was there. 

He kept it pretty simple, just told him that it felt good to be learning some self-discipline, and living a more healthy lifestyle. He told him about the other new soldiers he was getting to know, and added a little cartoonish sketch of one of them in the bottom corner. 

In a P.S., he wrote, "Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." - Anaïs Nin. He didn't elaborate on that sentiment, as he felt it was fairly apt and self-explanatory. 

He tried not to wait for the return letter, but he couldn't help it. Almost two weeks passed, and just when he'd pretty much given up expecting anything, it came. When he opened it up, a snapshot of a pretty girl in just a U of Oregon sweatshirt and lacy panties, kneeling on a bed, fell out onto his lap. The letter read:

_Dear Boyd,  
Thanks for your letter. I'm sorry it took me so long to reply, but I wanted to get the picture developed before I sent it. Any time you get lonely, you can look at it and think of me._

_School is alright, but it's a little weird being back. Things feel different now. I'm pretty sure I want to move off campus next year. It's strange, because I used to love living in the dorm._

_I hope your training is going well, but I wish you weren't going to war when it's over. I don't like thinking of that._

_Write again soon._

_Love,  
Raychel_

Boyd's mouth twisted up in an involuntary grin, even though he thought maybe he should be annoyed. He didn't really want a picture of some girl that Raylan was almost certainly screwing, even if she was hot. He could see the benefit to it, but really it was sort of unnecessary. It's not like they were going to be writing love letters back and forth. 

Nevertheless, he pulled out paper to write back immediately. _Dear Raychel,_ he wrote, _Thanks for the picture, sweetheart. You look even better than I remembered. You didn't tell me much in your last letter. What's your roommate like? What classes are you taking this semester? It's nice to hear you're concerned for me. I will do my very best not to get killed in the desert. -Boyd_. 

Raylan sent a much longer letter next time, and included another photo "of me and my brother," in which Raylan was standing with his arm around the girl's shoulders in front of a fountain. He signed that letter, "Ray." Boyd sighed. 

The week before he was to ship out, Raylan wrote to him. It wasn't informative like the last several letters, it wasn't playful, and there were no photos. It was very short, and asked him to think about what he was doing. Raylan told him he could find him a roommate in Eugene, easy, and there were plenty of crappy jobs he could get that would pay enough to scrape by on. He said, "Please don't go to Iraq. Come see me instead."

Boyd stared down at that letter for some time. He was definitely irritated by it, by its self-centered and presumptuous nature, but he couldn't help but be touched as well. He wrote back to tell him he would send him new mailing information soon, and to thank him for caring. 

Iraq turned out to suck just as much as he'd expected, if not more. He wrote to Raylan as soon as he could, because he quickly realized that he was going to need something to look forward to in this place. 

Raylan wrote a very long letter back, telling him all sorts of things about his childhood, for some reason, about his mother especially. He also sent a picture, a group shot on the beach at night, firelit, with Raylan off to the side in swim trunks and a sweatshirt, staring into the camera. There were several people he wasn't familiar with, but his girl, "Raychel", was towards the middle of the shot, lasciviously kissing some other drunk girl. 

 

Boyd didn't know what, if anything, Raylan was trying to communicate with this photo. In the P.S., he said, "I hope you like the photo. I want to make all your fantasies come true."

Boyd shook his head, but he stared at Raylan's eyes in the photo. They seemed to be looking right at him. He had a sudden, intensely strong desire to kiss him. He hadn't even felt like that when the boy had been right in front of him. 

There was a near miss, about a month after he arrived. The jeep in front of the one he was riding in went over a land mine, and was blown to bits. It was as close to death as he'd ever been, and that included the time the mine had caved in on him, and he'd had to haul ass out of there. 

He'd written to Raylan that night in a shaky hand, letting whatever came to the surface of his mind be put on the page, barely censoring himself at all. If he might actually die - a possibility he hadn't actually considered before this experience - he wanted to let Raylan know a few things. He wanted him to know that he had a place in his heart and mind.

He'd had to force himself to send the letter on the next post day. In the end, he decided that it was for the best, because if Raylan couldn't handle something that real, he wasn't worth the energy.

Raylan took a long time to respond. Boyd was already trying to forgive him for not answering by the time he got the letter. When he finally got it, he understood why it had taken so long. It read: 

_Dear Boyd,_

_That was terrifying to read. I honestly don't know why I feel so close to you after only knowing you such a short time, and I have no idea if you feel anything similar. But I wanted to tell you that I do feel that way, in case something happens and I never talk to you again. I feel like I need to have you in my life, in some way, and I'm not saying I need you around me all the time or anything crazy like that, only that you mean something to me. I know it doesn't make any sense, but if you die I'm going to be crushed. I'm sure I'd recover eventually, but it would be really hard for me. So. Whether that means anything to you, I don't know. Maybe it creeps you out. But I had to tell you anyway, because you could die tomorrow, and I need you to hear it._

_Love,  
R._

 

Boyd crushed the letter to his chest and held it there for a long time. Eventually, he folded it into a tiny square and tucked it into the inside of his helmet. He wrote back to Raylan to tell him what he'd done with it, and to assure him that he was being as careful as possible. It was an empty promise, but he offered it anyway. 

 

Raylan continued to write to him. He would tell him what was happening in his day to day life - his classes, his friends, his boring job at a copy store, though never about dates or people he slept with - but at the end of each letter, he said, "Please be safe, I'm thinking of you." Every time, and always those words. As if his thoughts somehow made a difference in how safe Boyd could keep himself. As silly as it was, he tore off a strip of paper with those words on it and pasted it inside his helmet, next to the letter.

 

When Boyd got leave to come stateside, he knew he should go back to Harlan. His father would expect it, and he'd have a hard time explaining himself if he didn't, or if he left early. So he said nothing to his family at all, and wrote to Raylan instead, who he knew was now renting a house with two other students in town. 

He heard back right away that he was welcome to come and stay as long as he wanted, and just reading the words on the page loosened something inside of him that he hadn't even been aware was clenched. He felt an inexplicable relief. 

 

Raylan had been looking forward to Boyd's visit for weeks, ever since he said he was going to visit, but now that the day was approaching, he had a sudden urge to call it off. He was afraid it would ruin things, somehow, that the reality wouldn't live up to what was in his head, or that Boyd would be completely different now that he'd been away at war. More grown up than he was, or something. 

Clearly, he was not doing a great job of hiding his nerves, because his housemates had started teasing him about it. Danielle, who had played the starring role of Raychel in the photos he'd sent to Boyd, was the worst. She knew the basics of the situation - that Raylan had fooled around with this boy and that they'd been writing to each other - but before now, he'd been careful to be extremely casual about everything. 

When he'd told her over coffee one morning that Boyd was going to visit, something must have shown in his face, because she'd raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes, and said, "You _like_ him."

Raylan had shrugged and said, "Sure I do. Why else would I be writing to him?"

"I think you sort of _love_ him." When Raylan made a face, she went on, "You do! You _love_ him. Raylan Baker, in love. I never thought I'd see the day."

"That's ridiculous," he'd said. "I barely know this kid." He'd stood up quickly and rinsed his cup, then headed off to class early. 

She hadn't let up, though, and had enlisted the support of their other housemate, Scott, a stoner who had flunked out of college and was now working as a prep cook. He was mild-mannered and normally wouldn't put a lot of effort into mocking someone, but Raylan was pretty sure he wanted to fuck Danielle, and so was doing his best to get on her good side.

The day Boyd was to arrive, Raylan walked into the living room to find Scott watching cartoons and eating some leftovers from the restaurant where he worked. It was nine in the morning, and the boy was eating cold pasta with chicken and broccoli. 

"That's digusting, Scott," he said. 

Scott grinned at him. "I'm sorry, should I try to behave myself? I don't want to make a bad impression on your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend, and I don't give a shit what he thinks of you. I, personally, find what you are doing offensive. How about a bowl of cereal? Some toast?"

"Maybe," he said, "after I finish this pasta." He reached behind the sofa for his long glass bong. "You want some? Calm your nerves a bit?"

"Did I mention it's 9am? But thanks anyway."

"Man, I can't wait to get a look at this dude. I mean, I'm not even into guys, but if a guy like you is this into him, he must be other-fucking-worldly. Maybe I'll convert."

Raylan laughed. "I don't know, man. He's not...it's not about that. He's a little weird-looking, even. In a good way, but I'm saying, he's not like a movie star or anything. He's just...I don't even know."

Scott stared at him for what felt like awhile, then a smile grew slowly on his face. "Holy shit, she was right," he said gleefully. "You got it bad, dude."

"Stop. Please, just shut up about that, okay? That doesn't make any sense."

"Love has no logic, Ray," Scott said, then fired up his bong, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. 

"Fuck you," Raylan said, stalking out of the room. He needed to get to the liquor store and pick up... what? Bourbon, he was pretty sure that was what Boyd had ordered. He had vodka and about a quarter of a bottle of Irish whiskey, but he figured, Boyd had been away in the desert, fighting in a war, he ought to have his preferred drink. And he needed beer, too.

Raylan didn't know what food he should buy. Mostly he lived on cereal and frozen pizza, but that didn't feel very welcoming. They could eat out a few times, but he didn't have a ton of extra money. He could maybe pick up some deli meat and a loaf of bread, and maybe get a chicken to roast one night, although he'd never attempted such a thing, but maybe Danielle would know...

Shit.

This was why his housemates wouldn't leave him alone about this. He was a fucking nervous wreck, and why? It would be fine. He'd just wait until Boyd got here, take him out to dinner, and the next day they could go to the grocery store together. Raylan didn't even know how long Boyd was planning to stay, maybe only for the weekend. He'd probably want to spend most of his leave with his family.

He picked up the alcohol, at the last minute grabbing and then abandoning a bottle of wine. Wine? What the fuck? Raylan didn't drink it, and had no reason to think Boyd did. Jesus, he had to get his head together about this. He was just a boy, some closeted hillbilly, nothing to get so worked up about. 

Boyd's flight was due in at just past three, so Raylan went for a run, showered and killed time until it was finally time to leave. He drove his crappy little '86 Civic to the airport and parked in short term parking, ran in and checked the arrivals board. His heart sped up a little when he saw that Boyd's flight had gotten in a little early; he was probably there already, waiting at the baggage claim. 

He turned around to look for the baggage area, and almost ran right into Boyd Crowder. 

"Boyd! Jesus," Raylan laughed. 

Boyd was grinning at him. "Hey, Raylan. We landed early, so I was watching for you."

Raylan stood awkwardly for a minute, wanting to give him a hug, but feeling weird about it. Boyd stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ready?" he said. 

Raylan nodded and started walking. "My car's in short term parking. It's kind of a piece of shit, just to warn you. I picked up some Wild Turkey, I hope the brand's okay, I don't know, I don't usually buy bourbon. And, uh, I wasn't sure what you liked to eat, so if you want to give me a list I can go tomorrow, or you can come with-"

"Raylan?" Boyd said, looking at him with a patiently amused expression. "It's good to see you too, son."

"Wh- Oh, yeah," Raylan said with an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah. It is." He looked over at Boyd, who smiled at him. Raylan's stomach lurched. _Shit._

They parked on Raylan's block, and he pointed up the street. "I'm about halfway up."

Boyd grabbed his duffel bag and followed Raylan to the small, run down bungalow. Raylan opened the door cautiously, hoping for an empty house. Scott had cleared out of the living room, though he had left behind a half-empty bag of Doritos and a strong odor of cannabis. 

"You can put your stuff in my room," Raylan said, heading for the stairs, when Danielle came bounding out of the kitchen. Raylan realized his mistake when he saw the look on Boyd's face as he recognized her. He should have warned him. 

"Boyd, this is my roommate Danielle."

She stuck out her hand and said, "You may know me from such photos as 'sexy co-ed' and 'drunk girl on the beach.' It's nice to finally meet my fake boyfriend."

Boyd shook her hand and said, "Very nice to meet you as well."

Raylan shot her a pleading look, hoping she'd catch his meaning and not start going on about how fucking besotted she thought he was. He didn't want to put Boyd in an awkward position, and anyway, she was exaggerating. 

He started up the steps, and Boyd walked up behind him. Raylan's room was at the end of the hall, and he opened the door and stood back to allow Boyd to enter first. 

Boyd set his bag down slowly, glancing at the bed and then at Raylan. He looked nervous, suddenly, but met Raylan's eyes in a steady gaze.

Raylan closed the door. "I'm not assuming anything, Boyd. The room's yours while you're here. It's up to you, I can sleep here or on the couch."

Boyd nodded and said, "I wondered if maybe you'd be sleeping with Danielle."

"What? No." Raylan shook his head. "I mean, I have, but that was last year. She has a boyfriend, and anyway...it's not like that. We're friends, that's all."

"I see," Boyd said. 

"So do you want me to? Sleep on the couch." 

"No, Raylan," Boyd replied in a soft voice, slowly moving toward him, "I do not."

Raylan let out a breath and walked forward to meet him. When they were very close, he stood still and let Boyd kiss him and pull him the rest of the way in. 

Raylan raised his hands to Boyd's shoulders, sliding one around to the back of his neck.

"I want to...can I take your shirt off, Boyd?" 

"Yeah," Boyd breathed, then kissed him again. 

Raylan started to unbutton Boyd's khaki uniform shirt, but fumbled at first because his fingers were shaking a little.

"You're trembling, Raylan," Boyd observed. 

"Yeah," Raylan replied.

"Why?" 

Raylan shook his head and leaned it forward onto Boyd's chest. "I don't know."

Boyd took hold of both his hands and looked at him directly. "Let me," he said, and he quickly shed his shirt, and his undershirt. Raylan just stood and watched, like he'd forgotten what else to do. 

"Am I the only one disrobing, here?" Boyd smirked at him. 

Raylan smiled and shrugged. "I'll do whatever you want, Boyd. If you want me to get naked, just ask."

Boyd walked up close again and spoke to Raylan's lips, just brushing them lightly. "Will you please take your clothes off, Raylan?" Raylan closed his eyes and groaned quietly. 

He stepped back and pulled off his tshirt, meeting Boyd's eyes and holding them while he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down, along with his boxers. Boyd did the same. 

Raylan reached for his hand and pulled him down on the bed, on top of himself. He ran his fingers lightly over Boyd's arms. "I'm still shaking," he said, with something like wonder in his voice. "It must be you."

"Raylan," Boyd rasped, "Tell me what I should do, alright?"

Raylan's eyes went wide. He'd forgotten that Boyd didn't know shit about any of this. "Touch me," he said. He moaned when Boyd did, it felt so good. They kissed, and eventually Boyd slid his dick in place next to Raylan's and held both of them loosely. 

"Is that okay?" he asked.

"It's all kinds of okay, Boyd," Raylan panted. "It's so good." He jerked his hips into Boyd's, and Boyd started stroking them both. Raylan put his hand over Boyd's and they moved together. 

It was a bit clumsy, unpracticed, obviously, but it worked well enough for Raylan anyway. Plus, then Boyd started whispering to him, and that was almost too much. He asked, "Why do I make you tremble, Raylan?" Raylan could only shake his head and keep looking into his eyes. "I know why," Boyd whispered then, and smiled down at him. Raylan reached up and pulled his head down, crushing their mouths together so Boyd couldn't tell him. 

"Harder now, Boyd," Raylan said, "Faster, come on." Boyd did, and buried his face in Raylan's neck as he came, letting out a jagged cry. He kept on jerking Raylan's cock until he went over too, warm and wet with their mingled come. 

Boyd settled down against Raylan's side, and Raylan curled himself into him, laying an arm across him. They breathed together for a minute or so, almost in tandem, then Raylan said, "I really like you, Boyd."

Boyd huffed and said, "I believe I picked up on that much."

"No, I mean." Raylan paused. "I mean, I _really_ like you."

"I knew what you meant, Raylan." He reached up and took Raylan's hand. "I like you so much too. Probably too much, it ain't such a good thing for me." 

"Why can't it be?" Raylan heard something close to a whine in his voice, and sighed with annoyance. "How can you say this isn't good?"

"It's inconvenient, Raylan, that's all I'm saying. I don't know what to do with this. It _is_ good, of course it is, that's why it's a problem. I got plans for my life, and I ain't never wavered on them before. There ain't no room in them plans for you."

Raylan was quiet for a bit. He tried to pull his hand back, but Boyd held fast. He finally said, "I wasn't asking you to change your whole life, you know, I'm not asking you to fucking move in, Boyd. I mean, shit, we hardly know each other."

"You gonna do that now?" Boyd asked softly. "After them letters you wrote, after you said you'd be fucking _crushed_ if I died? After this, us here together. You're gonna be that kind of asshole?"

Raylan made a frustrated sound and did pull away then. He sat up and said, "You're the one who just said there's no room for me in your plans that you've never wavered in. What did you want me to say?"

"Raylan," Boyd said, sitting up next to him. "I'm just trying to be honest with you, so you know how things are with me. And what I said was, I never wavered _before._ All of a sudden, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I'm lost."

Raylan stared at him for a long time. He reached out a hand and put it on Boyd's arm, letting it slide down until he was grasping at his wrist. "I don't know how it feels to you, Boyd. You say you feel lost, I believe you, but to me it looks like you found something."

"I found you," he said.

"No," Raylan replied. "Not only." He pulled at Boyd's arm until he leaned forward and into Raylan's arms again. "I won't push you. We don't have much time, and I just want to be with you now."

"That's what I want too." Boyd kissed him softly. 

"I can teach you things," Raylan said, kissing him and pulling him back down. "Things we can do together, if you want to learn."

"I want you to show me how to make you feel good," Boyd said, then gave him an amazing kiss, hot and slow, that made him feel like they were melting into each other.

"In that case, maybe you don't have that much to learn," Raylan laughed, then reached down to find out if Boyd was hard again too. He was. "You're a great kisser, Boyd. You want to test that mouth out somewhere else? See how fast you can make me come."

He did, and Raylan did the same for him. They laid in bed talking for a long time after, until the room started to get dark. 

"You want to go get dinner?" Raylan asked. "I know a good place, if you like Thai food."

"I have never had Thai food in all my life," Boyd said, "but there's a first time for everything." 

Raylan grinned at him. Boyd grinned back, and they looked at each other like complete fools for a few seconds. 

"It's a bring your own place. I have some beer we can bring, unless you want to stop for something else. Wine, or whatever." Again, with the wine. Raylan felt like an idiot around this boy when they weren't messing around.

Boyd shook his head. "Beer's fine with me." He was giving Raylan a funny look, though.

"What?" 

"You're trying so hard," Boyd said, smiling. "Thank you, Raylan."

"Boyd..." Raylan felt at a loss. He wasn't trying to try hard. He just couldn't help himself. "I just want this to be good. I like you so much," he said again, and felt lame as fuck. 

"Oh, Raylan," Boyd sighed, "Jesus, what am I gonna do?" He laughed softly and shook his head. 

Raylan couldn't understand what was so goddamn hard to decide, really, between a future in Harlan and a future in the wide world, that might include the two of them, together. At least for awhile, his mind added, and he winced. He was trying to be realistic, but he didn't want to be just then. He'd never felt anything like this before. 

He didn't say any of that, of course. He just said, "Right now, you're gonna go to dinner. And hope there's no one hanging around downstairs waiting to give us grief about the fact that we've been up here for hours."

Danielle and Scott were both in the living room, playing video games with the glass three-foot bong on the floor between them. They both looked up with leering grins and Raylan huffed a sigh. 

"Hey, we're going out," he said quickly. "Scott, this is Boyd, Boyd, Scott. Okay, see you guys later."

Boyd raised his hand in greeting, and Raylan grabbed the other one to pull him towards the door. When they got outside and started walking, Boyd asked, "What was that about? Are you embarrassed about me or something? I'm sure I ain't your usual type."

Raylan whipped his head around and stopped walking immediately. "Boyd, no way. Jesus, no, that's not-" He took Boyd's hands, and Boyd let him although he glanced around nervously. "They won't leave me alone about you. They constantly give me shit about it. They think I'm in love with you, and apparently that's adorable to them. I just didn't want you to have to listen to all that. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Boyd stood quietly for a little while, then let go of Raylan's hands and started walking again. After another block or so, he asked, "Why do you suppose they think that?"

Raylan smiled down at the sidewalk. "I dunno. Could be the stupid grin I can't keep off my face whenever I mention you. Or the fact that your impending visit turned me into a socially inept moron. Honestly, Boyd, I don't know if they're right or not. I don't know if that's what this is. I do know I've never felt like this before, and I think about you all the time."

"Alright," Boyd replied, very softly, then slipped his hand into Raylan's for a few seconds. Raylan squeezed it tight before letting him take it back. 

They ate and lingered at the table for a long time, talking. Their lives had been so different from each other's, and there were many explanations needed, so many stories to tell. They walked home slowly and made out on the bed until they fell asleep. 

 

Boyd woke disoriented in the unfamiliar bed. Eyes still closed, he shifted slightly and felt an arm slide further around his waist from behind. Oh, right. Raylan. He smiled and grasped the boy's hand where it was resting against his chest.

"Morning," Raylan mumbled, and Boyd could feel him smile against his back. "You're still here."

"I am," Boyd replied, turning to face him. "You gonna do something about that?"

Raylan sighed and kissed him, and reached down for him. "Just a quick one now, because I want breakfast. But later, we got some new ground to cover."

Boyd just grunted in response as Raylan jerked him off, rutting into his hip while he did it. Boyd came easily, then moved down to finish Raylan off. He'd been right about sucking cock. Boyd liked that just fine, especially with Raylan whispering his desire, and sometimes instructions to him, and tangling his long fingers in his hair. 

Breakfast was coffee and a muffin at a place two blocks over where everyone seemed to know Raylan. The girl behind the counter had dyed black hair, a pierced lip and flawless white skin, and she didn't charge them for the coffee. When Raylan went back for a refill, she leaned across the counter and Boyd heard her say, "He's sexy. Is he for sharing?" Raylan shook his head and smiled. He said, "I want him all to myself." The girl looked over at Boyd and gave him a little wave and a sharp grin. 

Raylan walked back over and sat down. "You heard that, didn't you?"

Boyd shrugged. "I heard you lose me my chance at a three way with a goth chick." 

Raylan frowned in concern, as if he thought Boyd might actually be pissed. "Listen," he said, "if that's really something you want, I could-"

Boyd was laughing at him, so he shut his mouth. "Goddamn, boy. It's alright for you to want things too. Anyway, I was joking. I like 'em a little friendlier-looking. Besides, I don't particularly want to share you either. Not this week. Not when I just got you." 

Raylan gave him a relieved smile. They finished their coffee and walked downtown. Raylan took him to his favorite record store, then to a market to buy some food for dinner. They bought a chicken, only after he scoffed at Raylan and told him he could work out how to cook the goddamn thing. That night, he let Raylan fuck him, and he was amazed - and a little bit disturbed - at how much he liked it. 

They spent the next two days in much the same way - wandering and talking in the mornings, dinner, maybe a DVD, then sex that seemed to get better each time. 

Raylan's housemates were nice enough. He liked Scott the stoner best, since he seemed genuinely happy that Boyd was there. He'd shared some weed with them, and when Raylan had gone to the bathroom, Scott had leaned in and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, "He really likes you, man. Ray never falls for anyone like that. He usually keeps it real casual. He's a good guy, though, and I can tell this is different. You like him, right?"

"Quite a lot," Boyd said, nodding. 

"Okay, cool," Scott said. "I thought so. You don't seem like the type to lie about shit like that. Not that I know you or anything."

"I ain't lying. I wouldn't be here otherwise, I'd be home in Kentucky."

Danielle was a somewhat different story. She wasn't unkind, nor unfriendly, but something felt off about her reaction to them. 

The first day, when they were unloading bags of groceries in the kitchen, she'd come in grinning like she thought the situation was hilarious. 

"A chicken? And oh my god, what is that, kale? Ray, have you found yourself someone who can actually cook something other than a Pop-Tart?" 

Raylan snorted and said, "We thought we'd combine our collective ignorance and try to figure it out. You're welcome to share if you're around, but I can't guarantee it won't kill you."

"Thanks, but I'm going to dinner with Eric. I'm sure you'd rather have privacy anyway. Did you buy candles and roses for the table too?"

The comment could have been a light-hearted tease, and Boyd had no doubt that's how it was intended, but it fell flat. Her cheeks turned slightly pink, and she said, "Anyway, have fun boys," and left the room.

Boyd looked over at Raylan, putting cans away in the cabinet, as if he hadn't noticed anything. "I wonder what that could be about," he said. Raylan ignored him. "I'm thinking maybe she didn't take your high-minded honesty to heart last year."

Raylan sighed. "Boyd, I can't help it if she misinterpreted something, or wanted more than I was prepared to offer. She said she was fine and I took her at her word. So maybe she's a little jealous because I'm giving you something I couldn't give her, that doesn't mean she's pining over me. That's just pride, and it's bullshit. Just ignore it."

"Alright, Raylan," Boyd replied. "I ain't gonna take it personally, but you should be careful with her. She's gonna try to fuck you at some point, and if you do it, she's gonna be a mess if that's all there is to it."

Raylan smiled. "Are you worried? Are you feeling jealous or something?"

"No," Boyd said shortly. "It's got nothing to do with me."

"Oh," Raylan said, walking up close and crowding him against the kitchen counter, "of course. You're just concerned for her well-being. I said you were a gentleman, I guess I wasn't wrong." He kissed Boyd soft and long on the mouth, then pulled back to look at his face. "So you don't think I should fuck her. Fair enough, that seems like sound advice. How about someone else? Would you prefer I didn't do that either?"

Boyd was irritated now. He hadn't said, or meant, anything of the kind. The idea of Raylan being with someone else did, in fact, give him a sort of indistinct pain somewhere in his midsection, but he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. 

"I don't give a shit what you do, Raylan." He'd meant for that to come out smooth, casual, but it sounded pissed off to his own ears. It sounded the way he felt.

"Don't lie," Raylan said, "please. I've never offered before, but I am now. If you want that, tell me. Because I do, Boyd. I want to do that for you. And I want you to be just for me."

"Don't hardly seem practical. I'll be gone a long time, and-"

"I can wait. I've never tried before, never wanted to, but I do now. You-you make me want things I never thought I'd want."

Boyd stared at him, his own expression softening. He gave him a weak smile. "Like kale?"

"Are you making fun of me, man?"

Boyd shook his head slowly. "It's just, the things you want, I don't know I'll be able to give you. You want a promise not to fuck anyone else? Well, I can do that, Raylan, and I'm happy to accept one from you. Beyond that, I can't say. I can't offer you some kind of commitment, regardless of what my heart might want."

Raylan nodded but wouldn't meet his eyes. "Let's not worry about that now. Right? We'll just see what happens."

"Yeah, okay. It's not that I don't want-"

"Yeah. I know. I know." Raylan kissed him quickly, and moved away to grab a beer from the fridge. They let it go after that.

 

Towards the end of the week, they went for a walk on the university's campus. Raylan showed him the buildings where his classes were, and they ate lunch there. They ran into a couple of people Raylan knew, including a tall, beautiful boy with a mess of dark, curly hair who smiled at Raylan like the sun shone out of his ass. 

Raylan introduced him as Gabriel, and the boy looked between them and sighed lightly. Boyd gave him a feral grin and draped his arm casually around Raylan's shoulders as he held out the other hand to shake. 

When he was gone, Raylan looked at him laughter in his eyes and said, "You feel better now? You scared the poor kid off."

Boyd didn't know what he was feeling. "I was just messing around, Raylan," he said, though his heart was beating a little faster. He felt like he was about to jump off a high dive and wasn't sure he knew how to swim. 

Raylan frowned a little and reached down to squeeze his hand. He started to say something, but just then a small group of frat boy types walked by and one of them guffawed disbelievingly. A second one said, in a clear, carrying voice, "Fucking fags."

Boyd immediately went into high alert, but Raylan just sighed. "Just ignore them," he said. 

"...should keep that shit to themselves," another one said. He was a big red-faced guy, muscled but already getting soft, like he'd played football in high school but now didn't do much but drink beer and eat pizza three meals a day. "Fucking gross, dude."

"Way I see it, you ain't got much room to be calling anyone else gross," Boyd said, ignoring Raylan's glare. 

The big guy's buddies laughed, and he turned red. "Are you shitting me?" He walked up to Boyd, an ugly grin on his face. "You need to learn to keep your mouth shut."

"Maybe so," Boyd said, "But it ain't gonna be you teaches me that lesson, asshole."

The guy's friends were watching intently. One looked excited, but the other looked nervous and slightly guilty. That one said, "Dave, come on man, let's just go, it's not worth it."

Boyd sneered in the big boy's face and said, "Yeah, Dave. Run along now, before you get yourself hurt."

The guy's eyes widened and he started advancing on Boyd. As soon as he took a step, Boyd punched him hard in his soft gut, then grabbed him by the throat as he bent over. He leaned in and said, "You think you know somethin' about me, means I'm weak? You don't know shit, you fat motherfucker. You don't know who you're fucking with."

Boyd pushed the frat boy back as he released him. He looked at his friends as if he expected them to back him up, but one of them just shook his head in disgust, and the other one said, "Fuck that, I'm outta here."

When Boyd turned to look at Raylan, he found him staring, wide-eyed, with his mouth halfway open. Boyd blinked at him a few times, allowing the aggression to dissipate. When it did, he felt like shit. 

"Jesus Christ, Boyd," Raylan said, walking towards him almost hesitantly. "That was awesome."

Boyd frowned at him. "That was nothing, Raylan," he said, in a hollow voice that held no trace of boastfulness. 

"Nothing? Shit," Raylan replied. "I don't know how to do that. I've never been in a real fight in my life."

Boyd didn't have a clue how to respond to that. He had to wonder if he and Raylan could ever truly understand one another, coming from such radically different sets of experiences. He just shook his head slightly. 

Raylan was still looking at him with that weird, awed look, and Boyd really didn't like it. It made him feel too separate, too different. He'd only just started to feel like he might be able to find a new way to be.

They were standing too far apart, but Boyd didn't know how to fix it. He couldn't bring himself to draw closer, and Raylan looked like he was afraid to. 

"Boyd?" Raylan said. "You alright, man?" He did step forward then, close enough to touch his arm. Boyd felt tension leave him that he hadn't been aware of until it started to drain away.

"I'm fine. You mind if we head back to your place, though? I ain't really in the mood to hang around here no more."

"I was just about to say the same thing," Raylan said, with a relieved grin. "Yeah, let's head back. We can order out for dinner, watch a movie. Okay?"

Boyd nodded, and smiled at him, but pulled away when Raylan tried to lean in closer. Any illusions he had that this sort of thing might be tolerated, that the rest of the world was so different from Harlan in that way, had disappeared. It amazed him that Raylan, who couldn't even defend himself, was willing to take that kind of risk. 

 

Raylan had never before been so grateful to return to an empty house. The second they were inside the front door, he pushed Boyd up against the wall and started unbuttoning his jeans and kissing him with almost brutal intensity. 

Boyd put his hands on Raylan's arms, as if in defense, and pushed back gently. But gently was not what Raylan was after, not at all, so he resisted him. He grabbed Boyd's ass and squeezed it, pulled him in tight. He thought Boyd might fight it, might shove him back, but instead he went slack. He just leaned against the wall and turned his face to the side. 

Raylan stepped away from him and asked, "What's wrong?" 

Boyd wouldn't look at him. He spoke to the floor as he said, "You saw part of what I am today, Raylan. And that's okay, you should know about all of it, but I ain't some kind of freak. I don't want to be the outlet for some kind of kinky power game of yours. I ain't gonna role play goddamn _Deliverance_ for you."

Raylan would have laughed at that, because Deliverance jokes were almost always funny, but Boyd looked both sad and pissed off, and Raylan knew he'd had a part in making him that way.

"I don't want that, Boyd," he said softly. "That's not what it was. I was just impressed, that's all. It was so sexy, I could hardly stand it. I know you're not a character, man. You're a person, and a fucking strange one at that. I've never met anyone like you. You're amazing."

Boyd reached out and gripped Raylan's arm. He pulled him back in and wrapped both arms around him, holding him very tightly. He didn't say anything, just hugged him. Maybe there was nothing to say. 

Raylan pulled back slightly after awhile and looked at his face. "Can we go upstairs? I'm so sorry Boyd. I didn't mean to..." He trailed off because he wasn't even sure what he'd done, but he hadn't wanted to upset him.

"No, I'm sorry," Boyd said. "You didn't do nothing. I'm sorry." He kissed Raylan then, so sweetly, and it was hard to remember why he'd wanted him to be anything else. 

They went up to Raylan's room and undressed each other slowly. Raylan watched Boyd's hands work the buttons on his shirt, then pulled one of them up to his face when he finished, laying it across his cheek. Boyd's eyes were serious and calm, and Raylan couldn't look away. 

They lay on the bed and touched each other with a measure of caution he'd never experienced. He told Boyd what he wanted him to do, how to give him what he needed, and Boyd did exactly that. When Boyd pushed inside of him, so gently, Raylan knew he wanted this boy to stay forever. This was what he wanted, who he wanted. It was too good to think about losing, or ever leaving behind.

Raylan could feel the restraint in what he was doing, could see that he was trying very hard to hold everything else in and only let this one part of himself be visible. He couldn't understand why, though, because that other thing, what had shown itself today, that was beautiful too. Raylan wanted that too. Maybe he'd get it some day, if Boyd could trust him enough.

Raylan didn't do much of anything, just ran his hands over Boyd's skinny ribs and his wiry, muscled arms. He let Boyd fuck him, and touch him however he liked, and it seemed as if they'd been doing this together for years. Not because it was particularly smooth or perfect, but because he felt such a connection to him. They hadn't grown up together, but in that moment he felt like they were truly from the same place, of the same material. Raylan loved him. 

When Boyd was almost there, he moaned Raylan's name, and Raylan pulled at his shoulder, wanting him closer. Boyd kissed him and panted in his ear that he was coming, and that it was so good, better than anything. Raylan knew that was true, and he knew Boyd must love him too. 

They lay quietly together after, and Raylan told him what he'd thought about, what he'd realized, and Boyd told him he already knew. Raylan knew that wasn't how Boyd wanted it to be, and he told him that too. 

"Don't matter, Raylan. I can't wish it away, and I wouldn't anyway, now I have it."

"I'm sorry," Raylan said, but he didn't mean it. He wasn't sorry at all.

"Shut up," Boyd replied mildly. "Say that again and I might have to rough you up a bit." He was smiling a little.

"I'm sorry, Boyd," he said again, grinning. Boyd made a fist and nudged him in the cheek with it.

Later they ordered out from a sub place, and Boyd rummaged through Raylan's videotapes. 

"What's with all the Westerns?" he asked.

Raylan shrugged. "I don't know, man. I just love 'em. Always have. They feel really...comfortable to me when I watch them." He thought that sounded kind of stupid, but he didn't know how else to explain it. 

Boyd smiled at him though, and looked at him like he'd just become more interesting. "Alright. Which one's your favorite?"

"Hard to say. I really like _Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid._"

Boyd slid the tape out of its case, pushed it into the VCR and sat next to Raylan on the couch, leaning back on him and pulling his arm around his chest. 

"The theatrical release was butchered in post-production. But," Raylan assured him, "this is the director's cut."

Boyd turned his head and kissed him. "Well, thank Christ for that, Raylan."

The end of the week came very quickly. Boyd was flying out on a Sunday afternoon, and after they'd had sex and showered, Raylan didn't know what to do with himself, or with Boyd. It was a weird feeling after spending the week just basically living his life with Boyd in it. 

"Let's go out to breakfast," he said. "There's an IHOP not too far away."

The place was in a suburb about twenty minutes away, and they drove past a rundown, largely empty shopping center, the parking lot of which was half-filled with tables and white tents. There was a banner advertising a flea market. 

"After breakfast?" Raylan asked.

"Why not? Better than sitting around waiting to leave, right?"

They ate a huge amount of pancakes and breakfast meats, then headed across the highway to the market. It was mostly pretty depressing. There were tables of big packs of white tube socks, with cassette tapes in cracked, warped cases, with creepy glass-eyed dolls in garish dresses. 

While Boyd was looking at a table run by a local second-hand bookstore, Raylan's eye was caught by a table that held belt buckles, hand tooled leather belts, wallets, and some metal jewelry - pendants, rings, cufflinks. His hand went straight for a man's ring with a horseshoe on it. He couldn't say what he loved so much about it, any more than he'd been able to explain to Boyd why he loved westerns, but he picked up the ring and it made him smile.

"That's fifteen bucks, kid," the old dude on the other side of the table told him. "Worth more than that for the luck it'll bring you." He winked.

Raylan nodded. "It's not for me. It's for my friend, he's going to war." He pulled out his wallet.

"A man buys a ring for another man, that could be misinterpreted, son."

"Oh, I don't think so," Raylan replied, and handed over the money. The guy was still trying to figure out what he'd meant as he walked away.

Raylan slipped the ring into his pocket and went to find Boyd, who had picked up a couple paperbacks. "We should probably get going," he told him.

Boyd sighed. "Yeah," he said. 

When they got into the car, Raylan looked at him, suddenly feeling nervous. The man had told him the ring could be misinterpreted, and maybe he was right after all. He didn't mean it as a way to tie Boyd to him, or make him promise something he didn't want to. He just wanted to send something of himself with him. 

"Something you want to say, Raylan?"

Raylan nodded. "I got something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. "It's for luck," he blurted, rushing through his discomfort, "To keep you safe, and so you'll think about me. It's not- I don't mean it as a...a-"

Boyd took it from him and cut off his words with a very softly uttered, "Raylan." Raylan closed his mouth. "I'll keep it on all the time," he said, "but I'd be thinking about you anyway. I'm sure you I know that."

"I don't know anything for sure, Boyd. This has all been really fast. And it's new to me. I don't know what to expect."

Boyd huffed and shook his head. "No shit. You hit me like a ton of bricks, son." He pushed the ring onto his right ring finger and held up his hand. "I like it a lot, Raylan, but it seems more you. It's very western." 

"That's why I want you to wear it," Raylan said. He took up Boyd's hand and kissed the top of the ring. They drove back to the house, picked up Boyd's things, and headed to the airport. Raylan had no idea when he'd see him again.

Raylan had two years of school left, and Boyd had another three in the service. They wrote letters, and about once a month they had a phone call. It was strange, the promise he'd made to Boyd was one he'd expected to be difficult to keep, but during that stretch of time, while Boyd was in Iraq, he found it surprisingly easy. 

Not that he didn't find himself attracted to people, and not that he didn't have offers, but they didn't hold the appeal they might have before. His friend Samantha at the coffee shop teased him about it a lot, ever since she told him that a friend of hers was dating a super hot new guy who was bi, and they wanted to have a foursome. Raylan had told her no thanks, and she had frowned in confusion. 

"They're both hot, dude. You've seen her. He's even better."

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said. "I'm not doing that stuff right now."

Her eyes widened. "Does this have anything to do with that guy you brought in here? The southern one?"

Raylan smiled helplessly at her, and she clapped her hands in glee. "You're monogamous now? You're in love?"

"Yes, for now to the first one, we'll see. And definitely yes to the second one. I have not been feeling like myself."

She threw herself across the counter at him and hugged him hard. "I'm happy for you, babe," she said. "So where is he? Does he live in Portland?"

Raylan grimaced. "He's in Iraq. He's in the Army, with three years left to go."

Her face fell. "Dude. That seriously sucks ass." Then she smiled again and said, "You don't even get to see him hardly ever and you still promised not to fuck anyone else?"

"Guess so," Raylan replied with an almost embarrassed grin. "You think I'm nuts, right?"

"I honestly think it's beautiful, Ray," she said. So he never minded her teasing.

Over the next three years, they saw each other when they could. Sometimes Boyd came to Portland, and sometimes Raylan flew somewhere to meet him. Mostly, they wrote to each other, and spoke when they could. 

After Raylan graduated, he went to Costa Rica with a couple guys he barely knew. He stayed three months and it did wonders for his Spanish. When he came home, he found a data entry job that paid enough for rent and his car, and settled in. The job sucked, of course, but it was okay until Boyd got out. He didn't want to commit to anything until they knew where they were going to be, and how that would all work.

They had avoided all talk about what would happen when Boyd finished his stint in the Army. It had been years since they'd had their original conversation about it, and Boyd had never said he'd changed his mind about going back to Harlan. Raylan, at this point, simply assumed that he had. 

Still, he hadn't wanted to bring it up. He felt almost superstitious about it, as if asking might get him a bad answer, whereas pretending the question didn't exist would make everything work out just fine.

The date was rapidly approaching, however, and finally, during one of their monthly conversations, Boyd said, "So, I'm getting out of here in six weeks."

Raylan's stomach turned over in excitement, and maybe something a little like fear. "Are you going back to Harlan first?" he asked.

There was a pretty long pause before Boyd said, "Yeah. I'm going home."

"So, maybe I can come down there to see you. I'm sure my aunt can smooth things over with Arlo so I can stay there for a week or so."

Another long pause, and then, "I don't know. Let me think about that, alright?"

Raylan didn't like the sound of that at all, but he said, "Yeah, alright. I miss you, though, Boyd. I really want to see you."

Raylan heard him draw in a breath that sounded a little ragged. "Me too, baby. I love you, Raylan." 

Raylan frowned. Boyd never said that on the phone. "I love you too," he replied.

Two weeks later, Raylan was in the living room when Danielle dropped a letter in his lap. It was from Boyd, so he grinned and tore it open. 

_Dear Raylan,_

_The things I have to say to you are so painful that I can hardly put pen to paper._

_First, please know that I love you very deeply, and I can't imagine ever feeling any other way._

_Second, that I have not been intentionally misleading or dishonest with you, or at least any more than I have been with myself._

_I've been allowing this relationship to continue, and ignoring the likelihood that it would have to end once I left the Army and came home. I kept thinking it might not go that way, that we could figure something out. I don't know what I thought, but I was wrong. I was lying to myself because I couldn't stand the thought of not having you. I still can't, but there is no other way._

_I have to go back. This is my family, my legacy, and if I don't return, if I come and live with you, I will be cut off from it forever. You can't come to Harlan. If my father ever ever found out about us, you'd be dead and I'd be disowned._

_I am so sorry that I strung you along all this time. It was selfish of me, I should never have kept you tied to me while I was here. I know it was wrong, but if it helps at all, I believe it was what let me survive things here._

_I have loved every second of the time we've spent together, and all of your letters. You're the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. I'll never forget you._

_Love,  
Boyd_

The writing was very shaky toward the end, and smudged in two places. Raylan stared at it and felt dizzy. His breath was coming in tiny gasps. Danielle was watching, frowning, as he threw the letter down and ran to the bathroom. He was violently sick in the toilet, then sat gulping air on the tile floor. 

Eventually, Danielle came in and sat beside him, pulled him in and began stroking his hair. That's when he started crying, and didn't stop for a long, long time. 

Raylan called Boyd the next day. He'd been up most of the night, going over this problem a million times. The problem was that it made no sense to him. Why would this "legacy" be so important to him? Why would a father, who Boyd had said would kill the man he loves and disown Boyd, be worth losing Raylan over? The whole thing was bullshit, and he couldn't make sense of it.

This is what he wanted to tell Boyd. But when he heard his voice, he could barely get a word out at first. His voice broke as he told Boyd that he loved him, and this was crazy, he couldn't do this. And please, he said please so many times. He'd never imagined he'd end up begging like this, but he couldn't even bring himself to feel ashamed. 

Boyd's voice was too hard, too free of tears. Raylan knew he felt as strongly. He must, and he couldn't understand how he was doing this. He said, "This is bigger than you and me, Raylan. There are other things in this world that matter besides what we want, and who we love."

"This is fucking bullshit, Boyd," Raylan shouted, finally managing to feel something other than sorrow and disbelief. It was anger now, and it came rushing in like a tidal wave. It felt good. Actually, at the moment, it felt fucking great. "This is garbage, it's just more of you being afraid of who you are. Your legacy, my ass. Harlan's your closet, that's all it is. If you think it's gonna stay closed forever, you're a goddamn idiot."

"Raylan, please don't let it end like this," Boyd cut in quietly but urgently. "Don't let it end with you angry and trying to hurt me."

"Fuck you, Boyd. Don't make me the asshole here. It shouldn't be ending at all. You should be planning to come to me instead of that backwoods freakshow. _We love each other._ Remember?"

"Yes," Boyd said, still quiet. "If you think I could ever forget, you're a fool. I will always love you, Raylan. Now please don't call me again, don't write, don't come. Don't keep ripping it open, baby. Please."

"How can I just let you go?" Raylan asked, bewildered. It didn't seem possible, not after all this time.

"I don't know," Boyd replied. "But you have to, and so do I." He hung up without saying goodbye. 

Raylan was breathing hard, still pissed. He wanted to smash the fucking phone. Boyd was so wrong, he was making a huge mistake. 

For two weeks, Raylan felt like he was in a daze. He went to work and did the minimum. He didn't talk more than he absolutely had to. He got drunk a lot, by himself, in his room. 

One day he came home and found Danielle and Scott cooking diner in the kitchen, and Danielle poured him a drink. 

"Sit down, Raylan," she said. He sat. "We're worried about you."

He sighed. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine, dude," Scott said. "You seem fucked up."

"I'm sad, dumb ass. My boyfriend of over two years broke up with me over shit that doesn't make any sense."

"It's not just that," Danielle said. "You've been drifting for the last year, working that pointless job, waiting for him. This isn't what you wanted to be doing."

Raylan stared at them, then lowered his head into his arms. When he looked up, they were exchanging a concerned glance. "I don't know what else to do."

"I know," she said softly. She turned to take plates out of the cabinet, and put the food on the table. They all sat and ate pasta, and after awhile Raylan started talking. He didn't have anything to say that they didn't already know, and he knew they didn't really understand how he felt, but it felt good to get it out. 

Raylan kept drinking through dinner, and he didn't even really notice it when Scott left the room. Danielle offered platitudes in a gentle voice, and stroked his hand. When she got up and leaned over him, brushed his hair back and kissed him, he didn't put up any kind of fight. 

They had been together a few times, years before, and he remembered it was nice. She was sexy, and a little pushy in bed, and that appealed to him because he could just let this happen to him. There was no reason not to. 

She drew him up to her room and undressed him, then herself, and climbed on top of him. He looked at her and kept his eyes open, trying to think only of her and _not him._ She kissed his neck and ran her fingers over his cock until he was hard, and settled down over him. She didn't speak once. It was warm and good, and he didn't have to do anything. 

She rode him until she came, shuddering and gasping, and then he rolled her over, pushed her onto all fours and fucked her from behind, shoving himself into her as she cried out - in pleasure, he hoped, but didn't care as much as he should have, either way.

After he came, he let her hold him and whisper to him that everything was going to be fine. He let himself fall asleep in her arms. 

He woke in the night and went to his own room, thinking of what Boyd had once said to him about her. But it didn't matter now, because Boyd had left him, and he'd needed this. She'd only done it to make him feel better, anyway, though it really hadn't.

Raylan avoided both of his housemates the entire next day. He didn't want to deal with their concern, and he didn't want to try to change anything on his life at the moment. He just wanted things to be the way they were before. He thought of calling Boyd again, and was close to doing it, but he knew he couldn't deal with Boyd being angry with him. He knew he would be. 

He went to a movie and halfway through he decided he couldn't sit still anymore, so he left. He went to an old man bar where he'd never been before and had a few drinks, and by the time he left he felt incredibly reckless. He walked a few blocks over to a gay pickup bar and cast his eyes around for someone who might distract him. 

He found an older guy, early thirties maybe, who'd been watching him since he walked in. He was intensely handsome, dark, and didn't look like a particularly nice person. Perfect. 

He walked up and said, "Hey, I'm Ray. Want to get out of here?"

The guy smiled a sharp smile at him and said, "You bet, cutie." 

Raylan never did this. He'd never picked guys up in places like this, had mostly slept with friends before he met Boyd, or dated men he'd met through other friends. He'd heard about how easy it was, but it hadn't appealed to him. 

The man, whose name was Brad, took him to his apartment, which was beautiful and expensive. It was a grown-up sort of place, not like his shabby college kid house with its cast-off furniture and layers of dust. 

Brad took charge, which was what Raylan had wanted anyway, just like with Danielle. He didn't want to think about it. Brad wanted to fuck him, which was fine with him, and when he started rooting in a drawer for a rubber, Raylan said, "It's okay, man, I'm clean. Don't worry about it," and reached out to pull him close.

Brad shoved him away and said, "Jesus Christ, you idiot. How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-two," he replied. 

"Fuck," Brad said. "What are you trying to do? What's wrong with you? You don't even know me."

Raylan stared at him. He'd just wanted this to be simple, to not have to think. He felt tears sting the backs of his eyes, and turned away, started to pull his clothes on.

"Hey," Brad said, "I didn't mean you had to go. I just think you need to be more careful. Why aren't you?"

"I just got out of a...thing. I shouldn't really be here. Sorry. I gotta go."

"No, come on," he said. "Stay, I'll cheer you up. Come here, young man," he added in a mock-stern voice. 

Raylan let out a laugh that was perilously close to a sob, but he let himself be pulled back down. Brad kissed him, and it was nice because it didn't feel like Boyd. He'd been afraid it might, unlike when he'd slept with Danielle the night before, but it was different too. Brad sucked his dick, and he gave back the same, and when they were finished, Raylan sat up and reached for his clothes.

"Stay for a little while," Brad said. "Tell me about your boyfriend."

"Why?" Raylan asked. He couldn't see any point to it.

Brad shrugged. "I'm curious. First love?"

"Yeah," Raylan said, and he rubbed his face to keep from crying in front of this man. "He's in the Army."

"Ooh. Hot."

Raylan sighed. "I don't care about any of that. I mean, I don't have a thing about it. He could be a hairdresser for all I care."

Brad smiled. "How long were you with him?"

"I met him about three and a half years ago. In Harlan, Kentucky." Raylan laughed that sad laugh again and said, "He's a hillbilly. His family are criminals. I guess he will be too, now, since that's what he's headed back to. That's what he chose over me."

"Oh honey, that won't last. How long do you think he'll be able to stay in a place like that? He's in the closet, I'm guessing?"

Raylan made a frustrated sound. "I fucking hate that place. I feel like if I went there I could make him see it for what it is. I could pull him out of there."

"You are really sweet," Brad said. "And you're very sexy. And you obviously love him. If that hasn't been enough to change his mind after three years, you going there isn't going to do anything but make things worse for both of you. Trust me, this feels awful, but you'll get over it."

That sounds like utter bullshit to Raylan, like something his dad might say. He doesn't know about this. This isn't some stupid teenage romance, but this guy obviously thinks it is. He probably thinks it's fucking cute. 

"I should really get going," Raylan said. "My roommates probably think I went out and killed myself." He thinks of Danielle and groans. "And I think one of them is half in love with me, which I'll have to deal with since we fucked last night. I am an idiot. Good call on that one, man."

"Uh oh. Is he cute, at least?"

"She is. But it's still a bad idea."

"She? Well, look at you. Options all over the place. You'll be fine in no time. Careful you don't get anyone knocked up, though," he said, his mouth pulling up into a wry smile. "Start thinking with your big head a little, would you?"

"Okay," Raylan said. 

"You sure you don't want to stay over? I don't mind. I'll take you out for breakfast."

Raylan laughed and shook his head. "I was hoping you'd be a lot meaner. I'm tired of people being nice to me."

Brad rolled his eyes at him. "Try to scale back the melodrama, kid. You want mean? Go tell that girl you live with that she's too fat for you."

"She's not fat."

"Yeah, but she probably doesn't know that," Brad laughed.

"Maybe you are an asshole after all," Raylan said, tying up his shoes. "See you around."

Back at his house, Raylan opened the door as quietly as possible. It was very late, almost one, so he had high hopes he'd be able to sneak in and go to bed. Unfortunately, the light was on in the living room, and Danielle was sitting up. She turned off the tv and called out to him. 

"Hey, Dani," Raylan said. "I'm pretty beat, I was just gonna head up to bed."

"Can you just come here for a minute, Ray? I won't keep you up."

"Sure," he said, reluctantly. He walked in and sat on the couch with her, but not nearly close enough for her to touch him.

"We need to talk about what happened," she said.

"I really don't see why we do," he replied. He knew this wasn't the way to approach it, but he felt bone tired and didn't care that much anymore. "It happened, it didn't mean anything, and it's not going to happen again. Right?"

He looked away from her stricken face. What the hell had she expected, anyway? She knew he wasn't over Boyd when she did it. 

"Jesus, Raylan. No, not right! It did mean something, you asshole. It's not like I think you're my boyfriend now, or whatever, but we've known each other for four years. You're one of my best friends. How can you act like I'm some stranger? Is that where you were tonight? With some stranger?"

"Yeah," he said. He spoke bluntly and his voice had turned a little mean. He hated it, but he also kind of hated her at that moment. "And he was better in bed than you ever were."

"Oh, of course. A boy. Did he look like that closeted redneck you're so hung up on?"

"No." He got up and started to walk out, then turned back around. "Were you just hanging around waiting for me and Boyd to be over? You acted like you liked him, pretended to be happy for me, but you were just waiting to get your chance again, weren't you?"

Scott had appeared at the foot of the stairs and was watching them. He said, "Raylan, you're drunk and acting like an asshole. Why don't you just go to bed?"

"Why don't you mind your own business, Scott? Better yet, maybe you should get her high and take your shot, finally. You've been waiting around too. Fucking pathetic, both of you."

Raylan stomped up to his room and slammed the door. He was acting like a child, and he knew it. He should have stayed at Brad's place. They would have had breakfast and he wouldn't have had to deal with this shit when he was so goddamn tired. 

He woke in the morning and remembered nothing for a few blissful seconds. Then it all came crashing down, and he groaned into his pillow. He thought about what he'd almost done after the bar, and the possibility of what could have happened took his breath away. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

He heard the shower shut off down the hall, and waited a very long time to leave his room, even though he needed aspirin and some juice very badly. He was terrified of running into either of his friends. God, what an asshole he was. 

He swallowed some pills and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade - not his - from the fridge, then went back up to bed. After an hour or so of lying semi-catatonic on his bed, a soft knock came at the door. When he didn't answer, it opened slowly.

"Raylan?" It was Scott. Thank god.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice weak and hollow. His head felt better, but his stomach was a mess.

"Can I come in a minute?"

Raylan grunted assent, and Scott sat down on the bed. 

"You don't have to tell me I fucked up, man. I know."

Scott snorted. "Okay."

"I'm really sorry. I know I said some shitty things to you. I didn't mean it. Please don't hate me, I can't handle that right now."

"Ray, I don't hate you. You weren't even wrong about me. I have been waiting around for her, and it is pathetic. You were wrong about her, though. Yeah, she has feelings for you, but she also cares about you. She was sad for you when he broke it off. She's been worried about you."

Raylan swiped both hands up over his face. "I knew it was a mistake to sleep with her. I wouldn't have done it, but she...she seemed so sure it was what she wanted to do. I thought she'd be fine about it, like before."

"Seriously?" Scott shook his head at him. "She obsessed over you for months the last time, trying to figure out if you'd ever want to be with her. You were too friendly with her after, always wanting to hang out. She didn't get it. It took her forever to understand what your deal was. She was only eighteen, man."

Raylan had honestly had no idea. She'd seemed worldly even then, but it must have been an act. Of course it was, he thought now. 

"I was only eighteen too," he said. "I didn't fucking know." He wasn't now, though. He should have known. "Do you think she'll accept an apology?"

"Eventually. But she wants you to move out. She can't deal with living with you anymore, it's too hard for her. I think I'm moving out too, man. This was a good thing, but it seems like maybe it's time to move on, you know?"

"I know," Raylan said glumly. 

"We're still gonna be friends though, right? I mean, I still want to hang out, okay? And with her too, although I think I'll take a little break."

Raylan gave him a weak smile. They both knew they probably wouldn't hang out, not more than once or twice, once they weren't living together. And that sucked, because he really liked Scott. "I'd like to," he said. "Thanks for always being cool with me, man. Not all guys would have been."

"I am a very, very special person, Raylan," Scott said with a completely straight face, and Raylan busted out laughing. He wasn't even sure why he found it so funny, but he couldn't stop laughing. "Anyway, I thought there was always the off chance I might hit a really long dry spell and want to hit you up for a BJ. Wanted to keep my options open."

"Well, whip it out, Scott. We can end this little experience in the messiest possible way." 

"Almost tempting, but I'll pass. Ask me again in six months. If I don't get laid by then, it'll be time for a walk on the wild side."

Scott patted his arm where it lay limply on the comforter, got up and walked out of the room singing he "doot do doo" part of the old Lou Reed song. 

Raylan moved out a week later with little fanfare. He'd written Danielle a letter, apologizing and telling her that her friendship was important to him. She wasn't around the following week, on the day he moved his stuff out. 

Raylan moved back home, and started to try to figure out just what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life.

 

Boyd kept expecting Raylan to call again, after that last time. He didn't think the boy would give up so easily, and when he finally realized that he had, Boyd felt predictably disappointed. He felt relieved too, because he wasn't about to change his mind. 

When he landed in Lexington, he had the strongest desire he could ever remember feeling, to simply buy another ticket. To fly to Portland and tell Raylan he'd made a mistake. He could see himself doing it, saw Raylan's face in his mind's eye, how happy he'd be. He could do it. Nothing was stopping him. 

His bag came off the baggage carousel, he picked it up and left the terminal. That had just been a fantasy; this was real life. This was the life he'd been born to live.

Bowman and Ava, now his wife, had come to pick him up at the airport. They were waiting in short term parking, and Bowman swung his bag into the truck bed as Ava gave him a warm hug. 

"How you doin', boy?" Bowman asked. Glad to be back in a civilized country for good?"

"It is good to be back home," Boyd replied. Ava scooted to the center of the truck's bench seat, and Boyd sat beside her. "How is Daddy?"

"Same as always," Bowman said. "A mean sumbitch, large and in charge." He laughed, then said, "I know you got to be itching to get your dick wet. We got a whole thing lined up for you at Uncle Johnny's tonight, boy. We're gonna celebrate." Boyd could see that Ava was pissed, but she didn't say anything.

Boyd most certainly was not in any mood to get his dick wet, or to get wasted with a bunch of good old boys, but there was no point in saying so. This thing was already planned, and if he didn't fuck one of the girls, people would start to talk. Not that he minded fucking a girl now and again, but he didn't want to fuck anyone at the moment. Except for Raylan, of course.

His daddy welcomed him back with open arms, the returning hero. Boyd didn't feel like any goddamn hero. He didn't feel like anything he'd done over there had been anything other than destructive. Even when they helped people, which they sometimes did, Boyd knew it was their fault their lives were fucked in the first place. It cancelled that shit right out.

Boyd was given a position over Bowman, though Bowman had been working with his father the whole time Boyd was overseas. Boyd could tell he was bitter, but there was nothing for it. Boyd was the oldest, and he was the smartest, and that's just the way it was.

Bo immediately started teaching him the ins and outs of the modest drug trade he did. He trafficked a little weed, a little coke, heroin, and an increasing amount of crystal meth. 

When Boyd wasn't learning the family business, he was thinking about Raylan. He thought of little else, though he never indulged in the fantasy he'd had at the airport. That was far too dangerous. He'd been very close to doing it, and he felt, if possible, even more empty and hopeless now than he had that day. He still wore the ring Raylan had bought him, every day. 

Arlo Givens was a leg breaker for Bo Crowder. He was the meanest, most intractable asshole Boyd had ever had dealings with, and the thought of what it would have been like for Raylan, had he grown up here, made him feel ill. 

Daddy had said that Arlo would be stopping by with a big envelope, and that Boyd should wait for him at the bar. It was the morning, before they opened, and Boyd grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the fridge in back while he waited. 

He sat and thought about Raylan, which was nothing unusual. He should have brought a book. When he kept his mind occupied, it didn't always go to _him_. Boyd avoided tragic love stories, though. He'd abandoned more than one book in the middle when it started to look like a romance. 

He twisted absently at the horseshoe ring and remembered the night in the woods. He'd been so scared of what he wanted. Raylan hadn't been scared at all, and by all rights he should have been. He'd been so sure of Boyd. If he'd been wrong, it could have gone very badly. If Boyd were a different sort of person, being right could have been even more dangerous. 

Arlo got to the bar fifteen minutes late, and Boyd was pissed. That old bastard wouldn't have done that to his father. He needed to learn.

Boyd took the envelope from him and said, "Sit down, Arlo. Let me get you a drink."

"I do my drinking with men, not little boys," Arlo said. 

Boyd's eyes flashed, and he said, "No really. _Sit down._ " Arlo must have seen something that scared him, because he did sit. Boyd poured him a double and set it down in front of him, then took the seat opposite.

Boyd placed his hands on the table in front of him, lacing his fingers together. "Arlo, you seem to be under the mistaken impression that I do not hold the authority of my father. Now, I realize that I'm young, but I won't be forever. I'll be here long after he's gone, and it would be to your benefit to treat me with a modicum of goddamn respect. This town will be mine some day, and I'll be able to crush you under my bootheel if I so choose."

Arlo cackled at him. "Or maybe I'll watch you get ground into the dust before that."

"I don't see that happening," Boyd smiled. 

"I ain't a student of human nature, son, but I ain't blind neither." Arlo stared at him like he could see right through him. It was fucking weird. "I know what misery looks like. I damn well oughta."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are speaking of, Arlo," Boyd said softly.

Arlo smiled, maybe, but it looked mostly like a sneer. "I think you got secrets, boy. Maybe they'll keep, maybe they won't. You know who ain't very good at keeping secrets? That boy who's supposed to be my goddamn son. Raylan."

Boyd kept his face calm, but involuntarily twisted at the ring. Arlo had said the name on purpose, of course he had, and he'd been looking for a tell. He saw it. And he got a gleam in his eye, because now he knew. Or at least, had a suspicion, which was good enough for Arlo Givens.

"You been in touch with him, boy?" 

"That's an odd question, Arlo. Why would I?"

Arlo grinned, downed the rest of his drink and walked out. Boyd started shaking as soon as he'd gone. He was sweating, but felt cold. It took him a long time to get himself under control.

Arlo wouldn't dare breathe a word to Bo about any suspicions he had. He had no evidence, and Bo might just kill him for something like that. Arlo would know that. He might find another way, though. He could tell someone else. It would get back to Bo eventually. 

Boyd had no idea what to do here, but he thought he might know who to ask. He went to the Givens home when he knew Arlo would be out working for Daddy, and told Helen that he needed to speak with her. She pursed her lips and nodded, then let him in. She offered him iced tea, and he took it, but it was way too sweet for his taste. 

He bummed a cigarette from her, and after she pushed the pack at him, he started talking. He was afraid to talk about it. He really never had, not to anyone but Raylan. He hadn't even liked talking about his relationship with Raylan's roommates, and it made him uncomfortable that they accepted it, and accepted him. 

"I know you can keep secrets, Helen, and I am asking you to keep some of mine. Are you willing?"

She nodded. "I think so. Is this regarding any kin of mine?" She was looking at him with a piercing stare.

"It is," Boyd replied, "and what I have to say could destroy me. I'm only telling you because...I don't know what else to do. I thought you might have an idea."

Her expression softened very slightly, and he imagined she was thinking about the fact that he didn't have a mother. Or maybe that was just him, thinking that. "I'll keep your secrets, Boyd Crowder," she said. 

Boyd sat for a long moment, trying to figure out where to start. Then he realized, she didn't need details. She only needed to know what it was, just the basics. He put his right hand flat on the table, palm down.

"Raylan gave me this ring three years ago," he began. "He said, to keep me safe and to keep him with me. But I don't need a ring to keep him with me. He always is."

Helen swallowed, then nodded. "I ain't surprised, really. I knew about him. And I knew he liked you. He told me that a long time ago."

"I had to break it off, to come back here. I thought it was what I had to do. But I come to find out, even someone like Arlo can see how unhappy I am. Even he knows I'm keeping secrets. What happens to a person when they keep big secrets too long?"

Helen frowned. "We all keep 'em. Secrets are the lifeblood of this place. And you see the results all around you, child. It makes you hard. Mean. And unhappy stops meaning anything. You can't feel it no more, but that don't mean you feel good, neither."

"What would you advise me to do, Helen?"

She stared at him for awhile, then got a soft smile on her face. "A loan," she said. "Take out a loan and get the hell out of this place."

Boyd frowned in confusion. "I don't know what you mean. A loan from where?"

"From me, boy. I got money. You'll take it. You'll pay me back. Go to Raylan, or don't go to him, that's your look out. But please don't stay here and turn into that. My sister left here and look what she got. A man who loved her and a beautiful son who's happy."

"I hope he is," Boyd said glumly. He looked down at his glass of tea. "I can't go back to him. Not now, anyway. I have to figure some things out for myself. It's always been him, and I let him do everything for me. I didn't have to think about what anything meant, or how I saw myself. He always had the upper hand."

"Love ain't a competition, honey," Helen said. 

Boyd shook his head. "I'll take the loan, Helen. I'll pay it back as soon as I can."

"I know you will, boy, else I wouldn't have offered." He thought she might have anyway. 

Boyd told his daddy he was moving on. He said he didn't plan to be back, and Bo said he'd better keep that promise if he was going to walk out on the family and his obligations. Boyd nodded and told him not to worry. Then he'd driven off.

He drove west, no plan in mind other than _get out_. He didn't head north, though, he stayed down where it was hot all the time. He headed into cowboy country, glancing at his ring on the steering wheel. He'd never connected with those westerns Raylan loved so much, hadn't quite gotten the appeal, but now he felt like that. He felt like a gunslinger, like Jesse James. No - James had people, he had a brother and a wife. More like Billy the Kid, who hadn't really been friends with Pat Garrett the way they showed in that movie, though it made for a great story. When Garrett shot Billy, Boyd had wanted to cry for him. 

Boyd didn't want to be Billy the Kid or Jesse James. He'd really never wanted anything of the kind. The only reason to be an outlaw, he figured, was if it was your only way of getting people to respect you. He knew it wasn't. 

Raylan had respected him when he'd scared that fat frat boy off. At first, Boyd had thought it was something else. Something like slumming, but it wasn't. Eventually, Boyd had understood that Raylan just admired it. Maybe wanted to be able to do it for himself, but at the same time hadn't minded being protected. 

Boyd was amazed by that, because he hated that feeling, found it humiliating, but it hadn't made him think less of Raylan. In a way he didn't fully understand, that was something Boyd admired in him.

Boyd rubbed his thumb over the horseshoe ring and decided that if he wasn't going to be Jesse James, maybe he'd be Wyatt Earp instead. Or Bat Masterson, Seth Bullock, Wild Bill Hickock. He knew it was right when the grin wouldn't leave his face. He was going to be a U.S. Marshal.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected reunion.

Boyd woke up to the sound of the shower, rolled over and stretched. He smiled as he got up, walked naked into the kitchen to start coffee, then went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

"Morning, babe," Max said, smiling. 

Boyd moved closer and wrapped his arms around his waist. He tilted his head up just slightly, and they kissed. "Morning," Boyd replied. 

Boyd had been working out of the Miami Marshal's office for about six months, and he'd been seeing Max for just under three. He was a little older, mid-thirties to Boyd's twenty-eight, successful, handsome, smart, great in bed. He owned his home, had a dog, and hoped to adopt a child some day if he found the right relationship. Boyd knew he was the perfect boyfriend, and was starting to feel guilty that he wasn't already head over heels in love. 

Almost six years had passed by the time Boyd found himself at the Miami Marshal's office. Five years since he'd spoken to Raylan. If someone were to ask him why he'd never reached out, never contacted him, he didn't think he'd be able to find a satisfying answer. 

He still wore the ring Raylan had given him, every day. One time Max had asked him about it, and he told him it was from his first boyfriend, and that it had been a sort of talisman for him in Iraq. Max - perfect boyfriend that he was - had smiled and said that was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. He'd wanted to know about Raylan, but Boyd couldn't bring himself to talk in much detail. It still felt sharp, painful.

Now Max was leaning into him, pushing him against the wall and rubbing his cock. Boyd groaned into his mouth and grasped at his hip. 

"Fuck, that feels good, but I need your mouth. Please."

Max kissed him, then went to his knees on the shower floor. Boyd closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, feeling the whole time like he didn't deserve this. Like there was something missing from him that wouldn't let him connect the way he should. 

He stroked Max's wet head and talked about how good he was, and that was certainly no lie. He felt it building, pressed himself back into the slick tiles as Max swayed with him. When it burst from him, he let out a wordless exclamation, then pulled Max up for a kiss. 

"That was real fucking nice, baby, thank you," Boyd said softly, his lips grazing Max's cheek. "You want me to suck your dick now? Or you want my hand? What do you want?"

Max looked at him for a few moments, an indecipherable expression on his face, then took his face between his hands and kissed him, tenderly but long. When he pulled away again, the look in his eyes was too soft, too real, and Boyd thought, _shit, shit, don't say it_. Boyd put some heat in his own eyes, gave a leering grin and reached for his cock. Distraction was the way to go this time. He wasn't up for that talk. He kissed him, hot and hard and wet. 

Boyd made it to the office, only about five minutes late. He'd managed to dodge any declarations of love that Max might have been working up to, but he could tell it was impending. He didn't feel it, didn't want to say it, but things were so good the way they were. He didn't want to ruin it by admitting he wasn't quite there, wasn't sure he'd ever be.

 

Karen was already in Dan Grant's office when Boyd got there. Dan looked up and waved him in as he crossed in front of the glass wall. As he walked in, Dan slid a file folder from the desk and handed it to Boyd, who started paging through it. 

"Diego Ruiz, remember him?" Dan asked.

"I surely do," Boyd replied. 

"He escaped during a prison transport. Now, we already knew he was scared shitless the Cubans were going to get to him while he was inside."

"He never said a damn word about anything," Karen said. "He was doing his time."

"Apparently, he didn't think they believed that. Or they thought he'd cave eventually."

"He's got, what, a wife and kid in the area, somewhere?" Boyd asked. "Do we know where?"

Dan shook his head. "Not yet. We don't even know if they're still in the state. We've got a few leads to get started with, but here's the bad news. The FBI wants in on this. They've been working the Cuban angle for awhile, and they were leaning on Ruiz. They're pissed about the escape, and now they don't trust us."

"That wasn't even our fucking office," Karen started, but Dan held up a hand. 

"I know that, but that doesn't make any difference to them. And frankly, though I'd never admit it, we could use the help on this. They have a lot more information about this guy, and they think he might have help from someone out of state. Some outfit in Kentucky, possibly."

Boyd looked up sharply. "Dixie Mafia?"

Dan regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "You're from Kentucky, aren't you?"

Boyd smiled grimly and said, "Born and raised."

"Well, maybe you can help these FBI assholes with a little insight, then. They'll be here at ten, we're meeting in the conference room."

Karen and Boyd left Dan's office, and she followed him over to his desk. 

"How come you were late?" she asked, smirking. 

"Overslept," Boyd said. 

"I bet," she said. "I saw that guy who picked you up after work yesterday. He's hot. Is he your boyfriend or just a date? You never tell me anything."

"Mind your own business, Sisco. I don't like talking about my personal life at work."

She rolled her eyes. "'Cause you're in the closet. How ridiculous is that?"

"No, because it's my own goddamn business and I don't like people offering their opinions on it. I only told you because we were drunk. If I was seeing a girl I'd tell you the same damn thing, now shut up, will you?"

Her eyes widened and she grinned. "Do you date girls too?" 

"When the mood strikes. Now honestly, leave me alone." 

She sat down on the side of Boyd's desk and leaned over conspiratorially. He glanced down at her cleavage, since that seemed to be what she'd wanted him to do, then back up at her face. 

"Fine," she said, "you don't have to tell me anything. But I'll tell you something about me. I haven't dated a single guy since Steve and I split up."

"I got a boyfriend," Boyd said flatly, reaching behind her for some paperwork he'd been working on the day before.

"Ha! I knew it. Anyway, that's not what I was getting at, and don't flatter yourself, Crowder. What I was going to say was, these FBI guys coming in today, one of them is super hot. Like, a mile from the sun hot. His name's Ray, he's single, and I'm asking him out."

"Well, good for you. I'm sure any red-blooded FBI asshole would be thrilled to get that offer. Be sure to point him out when they get here."

"I won't have to, weren't you listening? He's fucking gorgeous."

Boyd rolled his eyes, and she hopped off the desk. Judging from her last boyfriend, he'd probably be some cocky dickhead who thinks he's hot shit just because he's in the Bureau. Probably short and beefed up with something to prove. He snickered to himself and started going through the Ruiz file.

There wasn't much in it that he didn't remember, and he was very interested to hear what the FBI had to say. The Kentucky angle was a surprise, and frankly made him a little nervous. Not that he thought his family would be involved in anything this big, but there was always a fear of his peripheral involvement. 

Boyd looked at his watch and saw that it was about quarter to ten, so he went to take a piss before their guests were to arrive. He was irritated to find them already there when he got back. Dan was talking to two of them near the door to his office, and another one was at Karen's desk, leaning back on the side of Boyd's desk while she flirted with him. 

The agent was facing away, so Boyd couldn't see his face, but he'd certainly misjudged him in at least one way. He was tall and slim, with broad shoulders. Very sexy, at least from the back. 

On the other hand, he was wearing a cowboy hat, so he'd probably been right about the cocky dickhead part. What kind of FBI agent wears a cowboy hat? In Miami? 

Dan called Boyd over and introduced him to the two agents he was standing with. One was older, probably close to retirement, and the other was maybe a few years older than Boyd. Their names were Yates and Milner, respectively, but Boyd was fairly sure he was going to forget that. 

He was shaking hands with the younger one, when he heard a laugh behind him that hadn't heard in more than five years, but which he would have recognized anywhere. It couldn't possibly belong to anyone else. He turned around to look. 

The agent had removed his hat and set it on Karen's desk, and he was sitting on Boyd's desk now. Boyd could see him in profile, and he couldn't pull his eyes away.

"That's Ray Baker," the older agent, Yates, told him. "Doing what he does best," he added, and Milner snorted. "Ray!" he called over. 

Raylan looked over and started to get up. When he caught sight of Boyd, he froze for a moment. Their eyes met, and Boyd had the insane thought that Raylan might walk over and give him a kiss right then and there. Raylan blinked, walked over and looked at Boyd. 

"Hello," he said, holding out his hand to shake Boyd's. "Raylan Baker. Most people call me Ray." 

Boyd was vaguely aware of the other two agents giving each other sidelong looks, and he wondered what they knew about Raylan. Boyd clasped his hand and gave a very small, secret smile as he said, "Boyd Crowder. Nice to meet you, Raylan.

Raylan grasped hard at his hand as he started to pull it back, and turned it over. He was staring at the ring. When he finally let go, he looked at Boyd with a questioning frown. 

"Nice ring," he said.

"Thanks," Boyd said, looking straight at him. "Someone I love gave it to me."

Raylan's eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded. 

"So, we can meet in the conference room to go over this thing," Dan said, very obviously weirded out by the interaction. Karen had wandered over at some point, and she gave Boyd an annoyed glance, and mouthed "What the fuck" at him as they walked in. Boyd ignored her and kept his eyes on Raylan.

When they'd all sat down, Yates pulled some papers out of his bag and handed them around. "These briefs summarize what we've discovered about Ruiz over the past few months. We believe he was right about the Cubans coming after him. We're fairly certain his wife and son were still in Florida, but most likely he went straight to them when he broke out, and is now on the run with them. Furthermore, we believe he has support from another organization in Louisville, Kentucky..."

He continued to speak, but Boyd was only paying half-attention to him. He had met Raylan's eyes again and was focusing on keeping his face in some sort of neutral mask. 

"...and Agent Baker's been working on the connection to the so-called Dixie Mafia, so Ray, why don't you fill them in on that?" 

Raylan looked at Yates then, and cleared his throat. "Right," he said, glancing around the table. "Ruiz knows a lot. He was in a unique position in that organization, and had first-hand knowledge of a lot of different operations. Louisville is looking to ramp up their heroin trade, and Ruiz has the inside track on the Cubans' sources. He's valuable to them, and they have resources."

Milner broke in then, saying, "But we think he's still in Florida, maybe even in this area. As far as we know, he doesn't have any family except his wife and kid, but he did have a visit from a woman named Claudia Rivera in prison. We're not sure who she is to him, but we've been keeping an eye on her house, down in Homestead. We think his family might be holed up there."

They discussed strategy for the next hour, and Boyd couldn't stop looking at Raylan. Raylan would look over periodically and they'd lock eyes, but he always pulled his away after a moment, his mouth pressed tight. He was angry. Boyd wasn't surprised, but it didn't bother him too much. He wouldn't still be angry if it didn't still hurt, and it wouldn't still hurt if the feelings were gone.

As the agents were leaving, Raylan shook Boyd's hand and said, "Guess I'll see you again soon."

"Good bet, Raylan," he said, though what he really wanted to say was, " _When?_ " 

When they were gone, Boyd sat at his desk in a slight daze. He started shuffling some paperwork until Karen came to stand next to his desk, arms crossed and squinting down at him.

"What was that?" she asked, sounding more curious than pissed, but pissed nonetheless.

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about," Boyd said, pretending to work.

"You fucking liar. One second, he's grinning at me and laughing at my stupid jokes, definitely into me, Crowder. I can tell when a guy is into me, I know I'm not delusional about that."

"I'm sure you're not," Boyd murmured, wondering if there's any way around having this conversation.

"And then he looks up and sees you," she continues, "and it's like I might as well have vanished into fucking thin air. Now, you're not a bad looking guy, Crowder, but you're really more of an acquired taste, or a niche product, you know what I'm saying?"

"I think I do," Boyd replied, sighing and putting his pen down. There was no way she was going to be deterred. "What exactly are you asking me?"

"You know him from somewhere else, don't you?" When Boyd just gazed back at her, she added, "You called him Raylan. No one does that."

"Well, they're probably not used to the name. It ain't so uncommon where I come from."

"But he's not from where you come from, is he? I mean, he doesn't sound like you. He sounds like a California dude."

"Oregon, actually," he sighed. There was no point in being coy. This would end sooner if he just told her the truth. "He was born in Harlan, though. I met him after his mama died and he came back to scatter her ashes. We started seeing each other, though with me being in the army we didn't get a whole lot of time." Boyd held out his right hand. "He gave me this ring when we were nineteen. I haven't seen him in almost six years, and I haven't gone a day without wearing it since."

Karen was staring at him, her mouth open slightly. Boyd assumed she'd probably been expecting something more along the lines of, "we met at a bar last month and fooled around."

"So listen up now, Karen," Boyd said, watching her narrow her eyes at the use of her first name. "I hate to do this, but I'm afraid I have to invoke the sacred rule of dibs, here. I know you had a crush on him, but you're gonna have to forget about that. He was my first love, and I was his, and I'm the one who fucked it up. That means I have regrets."

"Obviously," she muttered. 

"Right. It is obvious, and I was too stupid to figure that out at the time, and too proud to try to fix it in the intervening years. But that's all over."

"Um...I thought you said you have a boyfriend."

Boyd winced and closed his eyes. _Shit,_ he thought, _Max._ "Yeah," Boyd said, "I do, but...you got to understand. It's..."

"Oh, believe me, I do," Karen scoffed, "but I doubt he's going to. And what if Ray- excuse me, _Raylan_ \- doesn't want you anymore?"

"Is that what it looked like to you?" Boyd asked calmly. Inside, however, he was not nearly so confident. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "No," she replied, "but what do you mean by you fucked it up? Did you cheat on him or something?"

"No. I believe he would have forgiven me that. I broke it off. Told him I had to go back to Harlan to work for my daddy. Thought I was gonna run the family business some day. I knew that wasn't gonna work out after less than a year, but by then...well, I thought I had to be different if I wanted to be with him. I wanted to have my shit together."

"Even though he apparently loved your fucked up ass and wanted to stay with you."

"He was waiting for me. He wanted for us to make _plans_ and shit, like, I could move to Portland, or we could find some other place to live, he said he didn't care. I was just...scared, I guess. I basically ran away from him."

Karen looked at him with uncharacteristic sympathy, and said, "Well, you were just a kid, really. It's not that hard to understand. Maybe he will."

Boyd nodded, then turned away. He hated for his life to be on display. He figured she'd probably keep it to herself, although he didn't know her well enough to be sure. 

When he got home from work, the first thing he did was to pour himself a double of Wild Turkey and take it out to the small balcony off his living room, along with the bottle. He was nearing the end of his second when he heard the knock. More of a pounding, really, and he opened it to find Raylan there, hatless but still in his work clothes, minus the jacket. He smelled like whiskey too.

Boyd smiled at him and said, "Raylan, come in." He stood aside so Raylan could enter.

Raylan walked in, a small, hard, amused smile on his face, and said, "Hope you don't mind me looking you up. It was real easy to find you. You know, at the FBI we have access to a federal database, which makes it a snap to find people's addresses. Oh wait - but you probably have that in the Marshal service too, don't you?"

Boyd tried to take his hands. "Raylan-" 

Raylan jerked himself back. "You would reach out for me? After all this time, after you obviously lied to me, you still think you have the right to just touch me? What, Boyd, you want to _fuck_ or something? Or maybe you'd just like to cuddle a little, huh? Fuck you, man."

"Raylan," Boyd said, his voice sounding raspy and weak to his own ears, "I didn't lie. I did go back to Harlan. I- I left after a little while because I knew I just couldn't stay. I couldn't live like that."

Raylan was staring at him, perplexed. "But where have you been? Why didn't you come find me?"

"I wasn't ready," Boyd said simply. "Then by the time I was, it was too late."

Raylan's eyes widened, and he spoke in a hushed voice. "It was never too late, you stupid fucking asshole. I waited all that time for you, I put my life on hold for you, and you thought I couldn't wait a little longer so you could work your shit out? I thought I was waiting for us to be together. You used me, Boyd. You needed someone waiting for you, someone at home who loved you, and when you didn't need that anymore you just threw me away."

" _No._ Raylan, I loved you. I always loved you. This is...I don't even know what happened. These years went by and I felt like I was in a trance. I feel like I just woke up. I-" Boyd's words were cut short by another knock the front door, and Boyd suddenly remembered that he was supposed to have plans with Max. 

He closed his eyes and groaned softly. Raylan raised his eyebrows. "Date?"

Boyd nodded. "I forgot all about it. It's been such a weird day. Jesus Christ. I gotta get the door. Just stay there, Raylan, please."

Raylan didn't answer, but he didn't make a move to go anywhere either. Boyd went to the door, took a breath, and opened it. 

Max was standing there, looking as put-together as always, and holding a book. "Hey, babe," he said, smiling. He held the book out to Boyd. It was David Rakoff's last book, and Boyd had mentioned he wanted to borrow it when Max was finished. "It was good, you'll like it."

Boyd took the book but stayed in the doorway. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready to go out. I had a strange thing happen today, and I forgot you were coming over. I'm sorry," he finished.

"Yeah, you said that," Max laughed, frowning a little. "I don't care if you're not ready. I can hang while you shower or whatever. Or you can go like that, you look fine. Or we can just stay in. Whatever, Boyd." 

"Max, listen," Boyd started, and then Max walked in closer and put his hands on Boyd's waist, leaning in for a kiss. Boyd let him, for a moment, then pulled back. "I think I'm gonna stay in on my own tonight," he said. 

Now Max was really frowning, and he quickly reached behind Boyd to push the door open wider. "I see," Max said after a few seconds silence. "Okay, I get it. We never made any promises, so that's your business, but at least you could have remembered to call and cancel our plans."

Raylan walked over then and said, "That's not what this is. We're just...we knew each other a long time ago, and now we're sort of working together. I'm Ray, by the way. It was a surprise, that's all. I wanted to come by and catch up, but I should have called first. Sorry. I'll see you around, Boyd." 

He walked out quickly, and Boyd wanted to call out for him but he knew that was a bad move. He needed to deal with this now, he owed Max that much at least. 

Max was staring after Raylan as he walked down the hall and turned the corner to the stairs. Then he turned back to Boyd and said, "What's going on? Who is that guy and why are you half-drunk already at six o'clock?" He didn't sound angry anymore, but he sounded sad, almost resigned. 

"Come on in and I'll tell you," Boyd said. "You want a drink? I'm about to fix myself a fresh one."

"No thanks. Jesus, what's gotten into you?"

Boyd poured some more bourbon into his glass and they sat on the sofa. "You remember me telling you about my first boyfriend, Raylan? The one gave me this ring?"

"That was about the extent of what you were willing to tell me. I always figured it must've ended pretty rough."

Boyd tilted his head to the side, thinking about that. "It ended with us still in love with each other. I ended it. I never thought I'd see him again, and then he shows up in my damn office today. He's in the FBI."

Max gave a sort of half-laugh, half-sigh and shook his head. "So, what are you telling me, Boyd? What is this to you?"

"I know what it is to me, but I don't know what it is for him. I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe nothing."

"And you, what, thought you'd put me off until you figured out if you could get him back or not?"

Boyd rubbed his hands over his face. "I didn't...I didn't think it out like that or anything. You know I really, really-"

"Like me. I know, you tell me that a lot. You like me, you like screwing me, you like hanging out with me. We're friends, Boyd. That's all we're ever going to be, isn't it? You were never going to love me."

Boyd didn't know how to answer, so he just shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said finally. 

Max shrugged. "Well, good luck. He looks kinda out of your league, to be honest, but I suppose you have history on your side."

Boyd snorted. "I guess you earned that one. But then, you're out of my league too, darlin', and look how that worked out."

Max smiled. "Yeah, but he looks out of _mine._ How is it _you_ broke up with _him_?"

"I was different then," Boyd said. "Before him, I wouldn't even let myself think about ever touching another boy. I dated girls and just figured, that's all there is. It's not as great as people make it out to be, but it's okay. And then I met him and he knew, somehow, and he acted like it wasn't no big deal. Like it was normal."

"It is normal," Max said.

"I know that now. But it took me a long time to really believe it, even after I was with him. I was still running away from it, and that's how I ended up back in Harlan. And I finally realized how fucked up I was, and I knew I had to fix myself. He couldn't do it for me, even though I know he wanted to."

Max nodded. "You seem okay to me," he said. "At least as much as anyone is. I could have fallen for you pretty hard, you know, if you'd let me. I guess I should thank you for not letting me."

"I wish I could have let you," he said. "I wish I could have let myself. Anyone would think I was crazy for letting you go."

Max stood and walked over to where Boyd sat, at the other end of the couch. He leaned over and kissed him chastely on the lips. "I'll probably see you around. No hard feelings, but if you think you might want to call me up for whatever reason, resist the urge, okay? At least for a good long while."

"Alright," Boyd replied. He didn't get up as Max let himself out.

Boyd spent the rest of the evening getting steadily more drunk and reading the Rakoff book. He felt like crying, but he couldn't be sure if that was the book, or the booze, or Raylan, or Max. He eventually fell asleep on the sofa. 

The next morning he woke up sweating, the sun high in the sky and slanting through the glass doors to the balcony. Momentarily confused and slightly panicked, Boyd groped for the alarm clock for a few seconds before he realized he wasn't in his bed. The alarm was, indeed, buzzing, but it was faint behind his closed bedroom door. He sat up slowly, mindful of his head, and sat for a moment with his head in his hands. 

The phone started ringing about a minute later, and he braced himself before picking up. As he'd expected, it was Dan, wanting to know where the fuck he was. 

"Shit," Boyd said, "I'm sorry, Dan. I fell asleep in the living room, didn't hear the alarm. I'm on my way."

"Christ, Crowder. Look, we have a situation. Seems Ruiz showed up a short while ago at Claudia Rivera's house and managed to get inside before being apprehended by the local officers we had watching the place. They only realized, apparently, when Ruiz came back out with his wife and kid, carrying a duffel bag and the keys to Ms. Rivera's car. The cops attempted to stop him, and he shot one of them, put him in the hospital."

"Shit," Boyd muttered again, pulling on clothes as Dan spoke. "Where do you want me?"

"Claudia Rivera gave up a location he might stop at, an auto body shop outside of Belle Glade. He needs money, and she didn't have that much to give him. You head there since you live north of the city anyway. The FBI's already on the way." Dan gave him the address, then added, "We're working on road blocks. I'll radio if anything changes."

"Yep," Boyd said, hanging up the phone and tieing his shoes. He grabbed his keys and phone, dialing Karen Sisco's cell as he headed out the door.

""Yeah?" she barked as she picked up. 

"Hey," he said. "I need Baker's cell number. Do you have it?"

"What? Why? You'll see him soon enough anyway, aren't you going to the same place?"

"Do you have it or not?" he asked flatly, and he heard her huff in annoyance.

"Yes, sure. It's in my phone. I'll text it to you, okay?"

"I need it right away," Boyd said. Karen hung up without answering.

He was almost surprised to hear the text come in a few minutes later. He punched in the number and held his breath while he waited for Raylan to pick up.

"Hello," Raylan said, sounding slightly wary at the unknown number.

"Hey, Raylan," Boyd said. 

There was silence on the line for a few long seconds. Then Raylan said, "Hey." 

"I'm sorry about last night. I wanted to finish that conversation. I have so much to say to you."

Raylan gave a short laugh. "I'm not sure now is the very best time for that."

"No," Boyd said, "it isn't. I'm sure you're not alone and can't answer me. I only wanted to tell you that I know I deserve some of your anger, and I know I hurt you, and I'm so sorry about that. If it's any consolation, I hurt myself just as much."

"It's not," Raylan said. 

"Okay. Well, Raylan, I don't know what your feelings are about me these days, aside from your anger, but as for me, they really don't seem to have changed much at all. I've never let you go from my heart. When I saw you yesterday, I knew I still loved you, and I decided I would do whatever I had to, to make you want me and trust me again."

Boyd paused, in case Raylan had anything to say in response, but he only heard breathing on the other end, so he went on. "If you tell me there's no chance, that you truly wish for me to leave you alone, I'll respect that. Is it like that? Please just tell me if it is."

"What about that guy?"

"Max," Boyd said. "That's over."

"Because of me?" Raylan asked.

"No," Boyd replied, "not directly. I can tell you about him later if you like, but right now I need to know how you feel about this. Should I give up?"

There was another long stretch of quiet on Raylan's end, and then he sighed. "No," Raylan said, very softly, "don't do that." 

"I won't," Boyd replied, equally quiet. 

"I'm hanging up now."

"Alright." Boyd waited on the line until it cut off.

The location would normally have been well over an hour northwest of Miami, but Boyd made it in about fifty minutes. His hangover seemed to disappear- whether from adrenaline or because of what Raylan had said, he couldn't be sure. 

When he pulled up, he could see several police cruisers, a dark sedan and an ambulance parked on the side of the road. As Boyd got out of the car, a stretcher was wheeled over and lifted into the back. It drove away quickly, sirens blaring, and Boyd saw one of Raylan's partners, the younger one, Milner, speaking to a female police officer by the side of the building. They both looked up as Boyd approached.

"What a surprise, the Deputy Marshal's a step behind. You missed all the fun, Crowder." Milner was glaring at him, and Boyd couldn't imagine how any of this could be his fault. Fear uncoiled in his stomach.

"What happened? Where's Raylan?"

"Raylan," Milner laughed, sounding almost contemptuous. "Baker's on his way to the ER. Ruiz shot him. I shot Ruiz."

"Shit," Boyd breathed. "What hospital? Glades?"

Milner nodded. "I'm heading over there now," he said, but Boyd was already on his way to the car. 

The hospital was less than ten minutes from where they'd been, and Milner arrived just behind Boyd. The nurse behind the desk said she'd let them know as soon as she heard anything, and to please sit down. 

"What happened, Milner?" Boyd asked. "How did he end up getting shot?"

Milner looked at him appraisingly. "You seem awful concerned for a man who only met Ray yesterday."

Boyd's face closed down. "You don't want to tell me, fine. Makes no difference right now anyhow."

"He was real tight-lipped about you, too, and that's fucking unheard of when it comes to him. He's usually an open book, happy to report when he has a date or when he got laid the night before, and he's not shy about mentioning if it was a girl or a guy. He just gets that look on his face like, 'whatever, man, why does it matter?' and that's fine. Because it really doesn't matter, not to me, but I never really thought about how it doesn't matter until I was around him."

Boyd pushed down a smile and looked away. 

"But that...whatever it was, with you, yesterday, he wouldn't say a goddamn word even though he looked like someone hit him in the fucking head. So you tell me now, Crowder, or we're going to have problems. How do you know him? What the fuck did you do to him that he's like that about you?"

"I don't know why you think this is any of your business," Boyd muttered.

"He's my partner, asshole, and I want to know who's hanging around him. I want to know whether I should keep you from going into his room, if...when he's recovering."

Boyd let out a frustrated exhalation, almost a growl. He was so sick of telling people about this. It was bad enough he was having to relive it in his head.

"It's just some shit from the past, okay? We had a thing and it ended badly and we haven't seen each other in several years."

"A thing?" Milner asked.

"A serious thing," Boyd conceded. 

Milner nodded. "Okay."

"I will say this, Milner. If you get it in your head not to let me see him, then I can promise you we absolutely will have problems. You don't know anything about me or my background, but I can assure you I did not have a soft upbringing."

Milner smiled a little. "Yeah, I kind of got that from the coal country accent. I was raised a Jew in backwoods fucking Arkansas, so I maybe understand a little bit about where you're coming from."

Boyd shook his head. "Yeah, but it's more than that. My family...I was groomed my whole life to run my daddy's pitiful criminal organization in Harlan County, Kentucky. The man had aspirations." He smiled bitterly. 

"Wait...your father is Bo Crowder?"

Boyd looked at him sharply. "His name came up?"

"Comes up from time to time. You're right, he does have ideas above his station, as it were. He hasn't come up in conjunction with this, though." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "And you became a federal Marshal. Who dates guys. Holidays must be awkward. Or am I stereotyping?"

Boyd snorted. "I have not seen my father, nor indeed any member of my family, in five years. I don't care to. They don't know anything about me, and I'd like to keep it that way."

They sat quietly for awhile after that, trying to read magazines and getting up for coffee and soda. The police officers who'd been on the scene showed up, and some time after that Karen and Dan. 

Karen kept looking at Boyd, eyes narrowed either in concern or like she was trying to figure something out, he couldn't be sure. She followed him when he walked to the candy machine and leaned in close. "You okay?" she asked. So, concern it was. It looked weird on her. 

"I guess so," Boyd said. "I'm trying not to think about it until we hear something."

She nodded and patted him on the shoulder. A thought occurred to him as they walked back, and he pulled Milner aside. "Has anyone called his father? Someone should. And-and his aunt Helen. I think that's all the family he has."

"I don't know. I'll find out. I'm thinking his dad is probably on a list to notify, since he's not married or anything. I guess the dad would probably call the aunt, right?"

"I'm...not sure. I don't know his father at all, but the aunt lives in Harlan." Milner gave him a strange look, and Boyd said, "Long story, but she was his mama's sister. I don't know that they're in touch, but I'm certain she'd want to know about this. I'm gonna call her." Boyd hesitated, then asked, "You think that's alright?" 

He suddenly felt presumptuous and weird about it. Just because he still felt so strongly about Raylan, didn't mean he had any standing. His partner had far more of a say than he did, about any of this.

"Yeah, man. I'm sure that's fine." Milner's voice was kind, and Boyd took that to mean he wouldn't be interfering with him visiting Raylan when the time came. 

Boyd nodded and walked off to find a quiet spot. He called information and asked for Arlo Givens' number, then closed his eyes as the phone rang, hoping Helen would answer, which she very fortunately did. 

"Helen," he said, "it's Boyd Crowder."

After a pause, she said, "Well, that's a name I ain't heard in awhile."

"I realize that. I ain't exactly welcome back home," he replied, trying to stay calm. It was nice to hear Helen's voice, and the familiar sounds of her accent, but it also put him on edge. He'd been away too long. 

"You ever get back in touch with my nephew?"

"No ma'am," Boyd said, "regrettably I did not. But fate saw fit to throw us back in each other's path despite that, and it seems we're both working down here in Miami. I only found out yesterday."

"I see," Helen said. "But why are you calling me? You looking for my blessing to start screwing him again?" She let out a low laugh, ending on a little cough. 

"Helen, he's been shot. You know he's in the FBI?"

"I speak to his daddy now and then, so yeah, I knew that. He's been...is he alright?"

"I honestly have no idea. He's been in surgery over an hour. He ain't dead, but beyond that I can't say. I apologize - perhaps I should have waited until I knew something more."

"No," Helen said, "I appreciate the call. You'll call again and tell me what happens?"

"I surely will." Boyd paused, then asked, "So do I have it? Your blessing? Because I still love him, Helen."

"You don't need that from me, Boyd Crowder. But I wouldn't speak against it. You're both good boys, if a little lost maybe. His daddy tells me he seems to be searching for something. Who the hell knows, maybe it's you."

"Thank you," Boyd said. "I promise I'll call again."

The doctor came out shortly after Boyd hung up and spoke to Milner in hushed tones. Milner walked over to the small crowd and told them the news. The bullet had hit close to his heart, missing by about an inch. The surgery had gone well, and Ray was stable. Assuming there were no complications, he'd most likely be out for at least a day, and on serious painkillers for awhile after he woke up. Everyone should go home.

Most people drifted away after that, leaving only Milner and Boyd again. 

"Listen, Crowder, I know you want to stick around, but there's no point in us both doing it. Why don't you and I go get some dinner? Then you can go home and sleep some, and come back later to relieve me. I promise I'll call if there's any change."

Boyd looked at him, feeling like he should argue, but what he was saying made sense. He nodded. "Yeah, sure, why not? There's a sushi place about fifteen minutes south of here. That work for you?" At the man's dubious look, Boyd added, "You can get noodles and shit there too, if you're gonna be a fuckin' baby about it."

"You get much sushi in Harlan?" Milner muttered as they walked out.

"Now, why else do you think I left the bosom of my family?" Boyd asked, grinning a little for the first time in what felt like a good while. 

They ate, and Milner wanted to know what Raylan had been like as a college kid. 

"Insufferable, mostly," Boyd answered. "I only put up with him 'cause he was so damn gorgeous. Also, he made an effort. He always acted like he had to impress me, even though I was just a boy from east Kentucky and didn't know what the hell I was about. And he was...I'd never met anyone remotely like he was. But he was soft. Never had to face any kind of real adversity. You know, he told me once he'd never been in a fight in his whole life."

"He grew up in a different reality than you or me," Milner said. 

Boyd nodded. "That's exactly right," he said. "And I think I loved him for that as much as anything else about him. But then, if he'd grown up in Harlan with me, I might have loved him for that, too."

Boyd dropped Milner back at the hospital and drove home. He poured himself a drink, but only one, in hopes it might help him fall asleep in time to get in a decent nap before he went back to spell Milner at eleven. 

He idly picked up the Rakoff book that he'd read in one sitting the night before, and eventually ended up wandering through the apartment, collecting odds and ends that he'd need to return to Max. There wasn't much; Boyd had never let him get too comfortable. He put everything in a plastic grocery bag and set it by the door. 

He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep at all, but he took off his shoes and laid down, and was woken up by the alarm a few hours later. He showered and changed, then started the drive back up to Belle Glade. 

Milner was dozing in an uncomfortable-looking position in a waiting room chair when Boyd jostled his shoulder. He started, then rubbed at his neck. "They really ought to figure out a way to make this more comfortable. My back is gonna be paying for this shit for days."

"Well, go on, then. Take something and get some sleep. I guess you'll be here tomorrow, some time?"

"Yeah, but I can't be here in the morning. Too much shit to deal with around the Ruiz business. I wish I could. I talked to Karen Sisco, though, she said she'd come." He shot Boyd a sidelong look and said, "You do know they had a sort of unspoken thing, right? He was planning to ask her out for drinks the very day he saw you, actually."

Boyd gave a half-smile and said, "She seemed to have had similar intentions. Can't say I blame her. Or him, I suppose, although I personally find her a bit...overmuch."

Milner laughed. "Yeah, that's a good word for it. You think she'll hold it against you?"

Boyd shrugged. "I'm from the Kentucky hills, son. I've seen grudges held for generations over far less." He winked. "But I'm sure she's more sensible than all that."

Milner took off and Boyd let the nurse know who he was there for, asking her to let him know about any changes. As the night wore on, there were fewer nurses and staff around, and Boyd felt too restless to sit in the waiting room anymore. He went walking down the quiet, empty hallway, peeking into rooms with sleeping patients. 

"Are you lost, sir?" 

Boyd stopped in his tracks and looked at the nurse who had asked him, a small, middle-aged black woman. She looked a little pissed.

"I apologize," he said. "I was hoping to find out what room Raylan Baker is in. I realize I can't visit, I just wanted to know. He's a very old, very close friend of mine."

She frowned. "That the FBI agent who was shot?"

"Yes ma'am," Boyd replied. "My name is Boyd Crowder, I'm a Deputy Marshal, but I've known Raylan since we were teenagers. Is there any way you could just let me see him for a second?"

She pursed her lips at him, then sighed. "He's in that room right there," she said, pointing across the hall. "Be right quick. I mean it."

Boyd flashed her a big smile and thanked her, then quietly entered the room. Raylan lay in bed attached to a forest of tubes and wires, with a huge bandage on his chest, but his face was unmarred.

"Hey, Raylan," Boyd said. "I know you're gonna be alright, but I'm still worried. I'm so sorry I left it this late. I've missed you so much." He brushed Raylan's hair from his forehead and his hand lingered on his face. "I ain't the same person I was all them years ago. And maybe you ain't either. I don't know if we're still gonna feel the same, but I want to try." 

Boyd pulled the horseshoe ring from his finger and took up Raylan's hand. "It's gonna feel weird not having this on, but I want you to have it. It kept me safe in Iraq, I know it did. I love you, Raylan. That's what it means." He pushed it onto Raylan's ring finger, then left the room.

 

Raylan woke up slowly, awareness creeping in bit by bit. His chest ached terribly, and he sensed someone in the room with him. He hadn't yet opened his eyes when he heard a familiar voice saying, "Baker? Hey. Hey, are you waking up? Baker?"

Raylan groaned weakly and opened his eyes to see Karen Sisco standing over his bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but it felt like it was filled with cotton balls. He licked his lips a few times, then managed to rasp out, "Hey Sisco."

She gave a big smile and reached over to squeeze his hand. "I have to get the nurse. But I'll stay right here if you want."

"'Kay," he said.

The nurse came in and took vitals and asked him a few questions. A doctor came in shortly after, explained in basic terms about the surgery and recovery prognosis, then wrote on Raylan's chart. 

"We're giving you pain medication on an as needed basis, so you'll be able to control it with a button. Are you in pain now?"

"Yeah," Raylan said. "Feels like someone shot me in the chest."

The doctor chuckled, then told the nurse to get him set up with the meds. She took a few minutes to do that, and when she picked up his arm to insert an IV, he looked at his hand and frowned. 

"I'm giving you a dose to start," the nurse said. "It should take effect pretty quickly, and it will make you sleepy. We want you to sleep as much as possible so your body can do the work of healing, alright?" She gave him a reassuring smile and walked out.

Raylan looked at Karen and made a small motion to ask her to come closer. She walked over and said, "I should probably leave in a minute. I'm so glad you're okay, though, Baker. Everyone will be so relieved."

"Uh...can I ask you something?" Raylan asked, his voice coming out in a whisper. He had no strength, and he felt strange now. 

"Sure," she answered,.

"Is there a...I can't feel my hands too well, and I think there's a good possibility I'm hallucinating, so can you tell me...is there a ring on my finger?"

She reached down and picked up his hand, then her lips twisted in a small smirk. "There's a ring, alright." She looked up at him as a huge, loose smile came over his face. "Crowder was here all night," she added. “I've only been here half an hour. He won't be too happy he missed you waking up, now that I think about it."

Raylan was still smiling, but he could feel himself fading. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to take you out," Raylan said.

"Hmm," she replied. "Well, I gotta say, it's a damn good thing we didn't start dating before the other day. I would have been fucking _pissed_ when you dropped me like a rock for him."

Raylan gave a vague wave of dismissal. "You would've left me anyway. Everyone does, they always get impatient because I can't get serious about anyone."

Karen snorted. "That smile looked pretty serious, Baker. Six years apart and you still look at each other the way you did, that's pretty serious."

"Yeah, he's the only one. It fuckin' ruined me," he said, slurring a little. 

"What was it about him, anyway? He doesn't talk to me much, so I don't feel like I know him. He's an unusual person, isn't he?"

Raylan smiled and let his eyes blink slowly closed. "I used to think he was the ocean. Nice to look at, but so much more than that once you dove into the deep." He opened his eyes and slanted them at Karen. "I was a romantic back then." 

Karen rubbed a hand over his arm and said, "He's really sorry, you know. You should forgive him."

"Yeah," Raylan said. "I did that already."

Raylan was already drifting into sleep and didn't hear what, if anything, she said in response. 

When he woke up the next time, his father was in the room, sitting in a chair in the corner, doing a crossword puzzle. 

"Hi dad," Raylan said. 

Craig Baker looked up at him, pulled off his reading glasses, and smiled. "About time you woke up and greeted your father."

Raylan smiled wanly. "You didn't have to come all the way down here for this. I'm not dying."

"The day I decide not to visit my son after he's been shot in the chest, that's the day you can put me in a home, because I will clearly have lost it."

Raylan gave a feeble snort and said, "Okay."

"So, how are things with you, aside from the obvious? I haven't talked to you in awhile. Still seeing Trisha?"

Raylan raised a single eyebrow at him. His mother had never been this nosy about his personal life. "No," he replied, "not for a few weeks." 

He chose not to go into the reason why, which was that he'd taken her to dinner and ended up getting the waiter's number while she was in the bathroom. She'd found out by going through his texts the next morning while he was in the shower, and that was the end of that. 

They hadn't had any kind of agreement, so in his estimation, if he was guilty of anything, it was really just being impolite. She, on the other hand, was an insecure, controlling snoop, and if she hadn't ended it, he certainly would have.

"Well, that's a shame," his father was saying, but Raylan had stopped listening because Boyd Crowder was now leaning in the doorway and gazing intently at him with a small smile on his face. 

Raylan lifted his hand, the one with the ring, to greet him, and his dad looked over. Boyd walked in, hands in his pockets, as if all of this were perfectly normal instead of weird and awkward. 

"Dad, this is Boyd Crowder," Raylan said. "Boyd, my dad, Craig Baker."

Craig's face lit up and he stuck out his hand to shake Boyd's. "I certainly heard a lot about you for awhile! I was always sorry I didn't get a chance to meet you." He looked at Raylan, who felt like pulling the covers up over his head. "Are you two seeing each other again? I can't believe you didn't mention that."

Raylan rubbed at his forehead wearily. He could feel his face burning. "Dad," he said through gritted teeth, trying to sound patient and not as embarrassed as he actually was, "we're not. Boyd and I just ran into each other by chance. He's working for the Marshal service."

Boyd had a good-sized smile on his face, and he said, "It's true, we're not, although in point of fact, that is the very thing I came in here to discuss with Raylan." He looked back at Raylan, still grinning, but with a seriousness in his eyes that made it difficult to look away from. 

"Ah! I see," Craig said. "Well...I'll go get some coffee, then, give you two a chance to _talk_." He made air quotes around the last word, and Raylan thought that if he'd had the strength, he might actually have strangled him. 

"No rush," Raylan said, as quickly and forcefully as he was able. Boyd's eyes danced with amusement, and he bit at his lower lip. Raylan glared, first at Boyd, then his father. 

"I'll be back in a bit," Craig said, and left the room. 

Raylan closed his eyes. "Jesus," he muttered, then looked at Boyd. "I was going to apologize for my father, but you obviously enjoyed that, so I won't bother."

Boyd moved up the side of the bed, closer to where Raylan's head lay. "Raylan, I want to kiss you right now, so badly I may start to lose my goddamn mind if I have to wait much longer."

Raylan gaped up at him for a second, then smiled. "Can't have that," he said softly. "That's one of your best features."

Boyd's fingers slid gently through Raylan's hair as he bent over him. His lips pressed softly against Raylan's and lingered there for a good long while, but he didn't push further. Raylan very much wished that this moment hadn't come when he was bedridden and drugged. 

As Boyd started to pull away, Raylan reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair, holding him close and staring into his eyes. Boyd didn't fight him. "You really want us to be together?"

"Yes," Boyd whispered, and pushed forward to kiss him again.

"It has to be for real this time. If you want me, you can't be thinking you shouldn't, and you can't be afraid of people knowing. I can't live like that, Boyd."

Boyd's eyes slid shut and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Raylan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Raylan. I'm so sorry I did that to you. That's why I didn't come back to you straight away, after I left Harlan. I knew...I wasn't right with myself. I had to...sort it out."

Raylan sighed. "If you needed to do it, then it was the right thing. Sent me into a pretty good tailspin though, that's for damn sure. I'd never gotten my heart broken before. I was fucked up for awhile."

Boyd pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and rested his arms and head on the mattress. Raylan stroked his head like he was petting a cat. 

"What did you do after I broke it off?" Boyd asked.

Raylan's hand paused for a second, then resumed its petting. "I spent a few weeks drinking and moping around. Then I fucked Samantha."

Boyd snorted. "I knew you would. Dumbass."

"Yeah. That didn't end so well. The night after I slept with her, I went out and picked up some guy and tried to get him to fuck me bareback."

Boyd lifted his head and frowned hard at Raylan. "What the fuck? You would have taken that risk and then put it on me, because I fucking hurt you?"

"It wouldn't have been on you. Anyway, he turned out to be unexpectedly decent. That night was pretty much as bad as it got, and after that I started to get my shit together."

Boyd kissed him on the forehead. "I'm so glad."

"So what about Max? You said it wasn't because of me, but the timing is suspiscious."

Boyd laughed. "You were a catalyst, you might say, but it was already coming. He wanted to love me, but I couldn't love him."

"He didn't look unlovable, Boyd. He was pretty damn cute from what I could see."

"My heart wasn't free, Raylan. Maybe you think that's ridiculous - it's certainly sad - but it's true. I only wanted you." Boyd considered him for a long moment. "What about you? You fall in love with anyone since we split?"

"Nope," Raylan said, but didn't elaborate. They were quiet for awhile, and then Raylan said, "Boyd." Boyd looked up. "My chest is hurting pretty bad again and I need to take some medicine. Will you stay with me until I'm asleep again?"

Boyd smiled and took up Raylan's hand. He kissed it, then laid his head back down on the bed. 

 

Raylan left the hospital a week later. His dad had stayed in town, and he drove Raylan home, stocked his fridge with groceries, and was hanging around being solicitous and altogether infuriating.

"Dad, I'm fine. No, I don't want anything to eat, and if I do I can get up and get it. You have got to stop hovering."

Craig frowned at him, then sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. "I know I'm being annoying, son. It's just...you're my whole family now. Scared the living shit out of me when I got that call. If you ever have a child, you'll understand that fear."

Raylan felt guilty for snapping at him but he still needed to make him back off a little. "Sorry. I get it. But I'm going to be fine, and I'm used to being on my own. And besides, I do have friends, you know. If I need help I have people to ask."

"Friends like Boyd Crowder?" His father was giving him a smile like he knew something. Maybe he did, but it wasn't like it was something especially tough to figure out.

"For instance," Raylan said. 

"I remember you being messed up pretty bad over him a few years ago. You sure seeing him again is the right move?"

Raylan squinted at him and said, "Dad, I love you. But stop trying to talk to me about this shit, okay? Seriously."

"I called your aunt Helen after I heard what happened," Craig said, seeming to change the subject.

"Oh yeah?" Raylan said. He felt a twinge of guilt about losing touch with her.

"Funny thing, though. She already knew. She said Boyd called her. She likes him a lot. Did you know she lent him money to leave that town?"

Raylan smiled faintly and shook his head. "Did he pay it back?"

"Took him a few years, but yeah," Craig said. "Apparently he keeps his promises."

"Eventually," Raylan muttered, then immediately regretted it. He really did not want to get into this with his dad. But Craig just snorted a laugh and stood up. 

"I'll get a flight for tomorrow, if you think you'll be alright.” 

"Good plan," Raylan said. 

 

Boyd was talking to Dan Grant when Raylan called him. He muttered that he had to take the call, and quickly left Dan's office.

"Hey, Raylan," he said, picking up on his way out the door. 

"Boyd," Raylan replied, and Boyd could hear his grin quite clearly over the phone. "My father is leaving tomorrow night. I was thinking you might like to pay me a visit."

"I would like that very much," Boyd said, sitting down at his desk. "I ain't much of a cook, but I could probably throw something together. How would that be?"

"Sure," Raylan said. "My dad's flight is at four, so he'll be in a cab by two and long gone before dinner."

"I don't actually want to wait until dinner, Raylan. How about I drive your dad to the airport, then pick up the dinner things and come back to your place?"

Raylan gave a long pause, then said, "Why would you want to do that?"

Boyd laughed. "If I recall correctly, you asked me the very same thing, in almost the same tone, when I told you I was going to fight in Iraq."

"Well, yes. I suppose I have a hard time imagining why you would volunteer for something so unpleasant, whether that be risking your life in the desert for no good reason, or submitting to my father's interrogation about our relationship."

Boyd could see Karen watching him out of the corner of his eye. "Can we talk about my reasons later? Suffice it to say, I have them."

"Okay," Raylan said. "Hey, uh...you know, I can't really do any screwing yet."

Boyd laughed, sharp and joyful. "Oh Raylan, I am looking forward to that, you have no idea, but the other things even more so. Alright? I can't wait to see you. It's all I can do not to come over tonight, but I know you get all awkward about this shit around your daddy."

"You really are different now, huh? The Boyd I knew would have had a goddamn personal crisis over having to meet my dad."

"Yeah," Boyd said softly, "I am. I hope that's a good thing."

"It's great," Raylan said. Boyd thought he sounded sincere.

Boyd managed to end the phone call without blurting out ridiculous things, God only knew how, and Karen smirked and rolled her eyes at him. He could not have cared less. He went in to tell Dan that he needed the next day - a Friday- off.

"Why?" Dan asked.

"I have plans." Boyd hated discussing his personal life. Dan just stared at him expectantly until he added, "I'm taking Agent Baker's dad to the airport and then cooking dinner for him."

Dan was frowning at him like he had no idea what was going on. "What?" he asked. "How'd you get that job?" 

Boyd stared at him. It hardly seemed possible he was that out of the loop. Surely Milner or Karen would have mentioned something. "Are you being funny or something, Dan?"

"I don't think so," Dan replied. "What?"

Boyd shook his head and kind of laughed. "So no one told you that Raylan Baker and I know each other from elsewhere? And that we dated for three years?"

Dan gaped at him. "I didn't even know you were gay."

Boyd shrugged. "Ain't a secret, but I guess there's no reason you would have."

Dan raised an eyebrow at him. "So that's what that look was about, that day. You better watch yourself, Crowder. He's got a reputation."

Boyd grinned. "Your concern is touching, but misplaced. I know what Raylan's all about."

The following day, Boyd drove to pick up Craig Baker, and Raylan was practically pushing him out the door. He did give his dad a hug and tell him he loved him, but he didn't look in the mood for lingering goodbyes. 

Boyd put his suitcase in the trunk of his Camry and they headed off for the airport.

"I'm real glad I got the chance to meet you, sir," Boyd said. "Raylan and I were together for quite a long time, as you might be aware, but as I was in Iraq most of those years, the structure of that relationship was not exactly traditional."

"Indeed," Craig said. "Raylan has never talked to me much about any of his relationships, not in depth, so I only heard your name a few times. He'd mention you'd been to visit, or that you had done such and such a thing in the war, or you'd had a close call. The most I heard about you was after you broke up."

Boyd was quiet for a few moments. "I'm sorry that was the case, Mr. Baker-"

"Call me Craig," he interjected.

"Alright," Boyd replied, "Craig. I regret that most of your knowledge of me is related to a time when I hurt your son. I didn't do it out of malice, or carelessness, or-"

"Boyd." Craig spoke in a quiet but firm voice. "You and my son met at the age of nineteen. It would have been quite surprising if the two of you hadn't both had some growing up to do. If I'm not mistaken, that was your first real relationship?"

"It was," Boyd said.

"It was his too, really. The first serious one. It would have been surprising if it had worked out. That's awfully rare, you know. But now, you're both adults, you know who you are, you've got another chance, and who knows?"

"I believe what I felt for him was true," Boyd said, feeling a little defensive. "I haven't felt it with anyone since. And it hasn't gone away."

"Son, I certainly didn't mean to suggest it wasn't real," Craig replied kindly. "Only that it being true love isn't the only factor in something working out or not. I'm just saying, I don't think it's a bad thing that you broke it off when you felt you weren't ready to handle it. I'm glad you get another chance. You don't have to worry about me holding that against you."

Boyd smiled. "I hope Raylan knows how lucky he is. He dodged a bullet when his mother took him away from Arlo Givens, of that I can assure you, but that didn't guarantee him winding up with a daddy like you."

Craig chuckled and said, "Well, Boyd, maybe you can remind him from time to time, when he forgets."

"I promise to do that," Boyd said, laughing. "Maybe I'll introduce him to my own daddy sometime. Course, I'll have to make sure he's well-armed before we go." That wasn't a joke, though Boyd made it sound like one. 

"I'm sorry you had it a bit rougher in that respect," Craig said. 

"A vast understatement, but that's alright. I don't exactly regret it. I learned things from growing up that way. Anyhow, sir, like I said, I'm glad to have met you. I would have preferred less stressful circumstances, of course."

"Like Thanksgiving?" Craig said, grinning.

"That sounds like a toss-up," Boyd laughed.

Boyd pulled up in front of the terminal and popped the trunk. After he'd pulled Craig's bag out, they shook hands, and Craig said, "Ray might give you a hard time about it, but that doesn't mean he couldn't use someone looking after him a little, sometimes."

Boyd nodded. "I know how that goes," he said. "We'll work it out. Believe me, it would take a lot to run me off this time."

He bought what he needed for dinner - some steamed shrimp from the seafood counter, two nice looking steaks, and pre-made mashed potatoes from the deli counter to heat up. Almost every man he'd ever dated had mocked him for cooking like a straight boy, but he'd just never developed an interest. He preferred eating out anyway, though he wouldn't mind a home-cooked southern meal. 

Boyd wondered if Raylan had learned to cook in the years they'd been out of touch. It seemed doubtful.

When he knocked on the apartment door, Raylan called out to him to come in. He wasn't in the living room or kitchen, so Boyd set the groceries down and walked back to where the bedroom was. He was a little bit concerned. Maybe Raylan wasn't feeling well.

Raylan was sitting up in his bed, a book abandoned at his side. He smiled at Boyd and stretched out a hand. "Come sit with me," he said. 

Boyd walked over, kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed next to him. "Hey, Raylan," he said, leaning close enough so their shoulders touched. "How you feeling?"

"Better now," Raylan said, then turned his head and dipped forward for a kiss. "I can't believe you're here. Am I insane to think we should just pick up where we left off? I know we should probably take this slow and...I don't know...date for awhile? I literally cannot imagine doing that. I mean, I tried. And that's not what I want."

Boyd cradled the back of Raylan's neck and tilted his head so their foreheads met. "I'm yours, Raylan. I hope that's what you want. We lost a lot of time, and though I believe much of that was time well spent, I would would very much like to start making up for it." 

They kissed again, long and sweet, and Raylan slid his long fingers down between Boyd's legs. Boyd groaned. "What you trying to do to me, boy?"

"I said I couldn't screw, but I didn't say anything about a little messing around."

"Raylan, I am not about to compromise your recovery."

Raylan kissed him again. "We could just jerk off. Let me watch you." He rubbed at his own crotch. "Please," he added.

Boyd kissed him again. He hadn't really wanted his first sex with Raylan after all this time to be this. Raylan wanted it though. He sighed and unzipped his pants, pushing them down a little and pulling out his cock. 

"No, take off your clothes. Everything." Raylan was grinning at him.

"You want me to get all the way naked just to jerk off?"

Raylan nodded, still grinning. 

Boyd narrowed his eyes at him. "Well...alright. But all I want you to do is watch. I'll do everything." He kissed Raylan again, taking up his hand and lacing their fingers together. "Promise you'll let me."

"I promise," Raylan said. 

Boyd undressed, keeping his eyes locked with Raylan's the whole time. He climbed back onto the bed and straddled Raylan's knees, stroking himself with one hand while he braced himself on the headboard and leaned in close. He brushed his lips over Raylan's lips, then his face then bent further to his neck. 

Boyd could feel Raylan under him, his cock hard and jutting against his thigh. He deliberately dragged his leg over it, prompting a breathless sound from Raylan. After that, he sat back on his heels and watched Raylan watching him. Raylan's eyes flitted between Boyd's face and his hand moving fast over his cock. 

Raylan reached into his pants, but Boyd grabbed his wrist. "Wouldn't want you to over exert yourself, Raylan," he panted. "You promised."

Raylan licked his lips and nodded, pulling his hand away. Boyd took it and squeezed. "Raylan," he said, "I'm about to..."

"I love you," Raylan blurted out, fast, like he'd dared himself to say it. 

Boyd didn't have time to respond before he started coming. He whispered, " _Fuck,_ " then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Raylan's. 

He reached into Raylan's waistband and took hold of him, still kissing him while he jerked him off, smearing his own come over Raylan's cock.

"I love you too," Boyd said, barely taking his lips from Raylan's mouth. "Never gonna leave you again." 

Raylan came soon after that. Boyd got a washcloth and they cleaned up, then pulled the sheet up over both of them. They laid quietly side by side for a long time, idly touching each other's bodies. 

Raylan lifted his hand and looked at Boyd's ring, which sat on his own finger. Boyd reached for his hand and held it in both of his, stroking the top of it with his thumb, running it across the ring. 

"You want it back?" Raylan asked.

Boyd looked at him very seriously and said, "No, Raylan. When you gave this to me, I guess...I did understand what you meant by it, even if you said you didn't. But I couldn't acknowledge that ever, because it scared me so much. I didn't think I could do it. Now, I know I can. It's all I want. It's a promise from me to you. Like you made to me all that time ago."

Did you wear it every day?" Raylan asked.

Boyd nodded and let his head fall forward onto Raylan's shoulder. "I always had you with me. It was a comfort. I wish I'd given you something of myself to keep too."

Raylan pulled him in, so they were lying together, as close as they could get. "You did," he said. "Why do you think I joined the FBI?"

Boyd shook his head. "I don't get it."

Raylan smiled. "Remember the first time you came to Portland on leave?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, when those assholes came up and hassled us, remember that?" He knew Boyd did, so he didn't wait for a response before going on, "I wanted to be able to do what you did. I wanted to be able to make people afraid of me if I had to. But I guess I felt like, maybe I didn't have to, because I had you, and you'd be the one to do that for both of us, so I never bothered to learn. And then you were gone, and...at first I tried to destroy everything in my life, myself included. I took stupid risks, I acted like a complete dick to people who cared about me."

Boyd slid his fingers through Raylan's hair, lightly massaging the scalp. 

After a pause, Raylan went on. "I finally figured out that I had to stop depending on other people all the time. I had to rely on more than just people liking me. I was too soft. I wanted to be strong, like you."

Boyd snorted softly. "You're an idiot. That ain't strength. You were always the strong one, didn't you know that? I left you because I was scared, because I was weak."

"What about now?"

"I don't know, Raylan. Stronger than I was. Strong enough to hold on to you."

Raylan held him and said, "That's good. Not that I'm going anywhere."

After a little while, Boyd smiled and said, "Karen was sorta pissed."

"Sisco? Ah. Well, I was about to make my move. Good timing on your part, man. I imagine she'll get over it."

Boyd kissed him. "I still can't believe you're here. But Raylan...the FBI? Really? How can you work with those assholes?"

Raylan laughed. "A little interagency rivalry, huh? Personally, I don't buy into all that. I think you Marshals are fine people. My coworkers are assholes though. There's no denying it."

"Milner seems alright," Boyd laughed. "Protective of you."

"He's a decent guy," Raylan allowed, then snickered. "One time this guy, fresh out of Quantico, came down to do some field training with us. We took him out to a bar after work one time and the kid maybe had a little too much to drink. He noticed a couple of guys sort of flirting at a table, and started in on how it's not like he was homophobic or anything, but he didn't really want to look at it."

Boyd rolled his eyes and huffed. "Typical FBI bullshit. A Marshal would never qualify his bigotry like that."

"Anyhow," Raylan continued, laughing, "Milner says, 'that's too bad, because me and Baker aren't usually very discreet after a few drinks.' The boy's eyes bug out, but then he goes, 'oh yeah, right, hilarious.' So Milner looks at me and winks, and I lay a big kiss on him. I'm pretty sure that kid didn't say another goddamn word the rest of the night."

Boyd cracked up, then propped himself up on an elbow to look at Raylan. "You think maybe he just wanted an excuse to kiss you?"

"You never know. But he implored me not to tell his wife. He was afraid she'd start begging him for a threesome."

Boyd grinned and said, "Women. Honestly, is sex all they ever think about?"

"Men have much more varied interests," Raylan said, nodding. "For instance, right now I'm thinking about how hungry I'm getting, and you haven't even started cooking yet."

"Raylan, it ain't even five o'clock. And the food I bought's gonna take about ten minutes, tops. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have not become a gourmet chef in the last five years."

Raylan sighed dramatically. "Then I can only hope you made use of the time by drastically improving your oral skills."

Boyd gave him an affronted look. "Are you saying I was bad before?"

"No," he said, a smirk appearing on his lips, "but you weren't _the best._ "

Boyd snorted. "Well, as I subsequently learned, darlin', neither were you." He smiled then, and kissed Raylan's cheek. "But I wouldn't trade your mediocre blow jobs for nothing, Raylan."

"Fuck you," Raylan growled in a faux-menacing tone, and grabbed a handful of Boyd's hair. "Mediocre, my ass."

"No, now, _that_ is exceptional," Boyd said. "And as soon as you're well, I'm gonna have it for myself."

Raylan groaned and loosened his grip on Boyd's hair. He flopped back onto his pillow. "I _hate_ being injured."

"Dear lord, Raylan, are you actually pouting because you have to wait another couple weeks for fucking? Do you know how ridiculous that is?" 

Boyd reached up and started to massage the back of Raylan's neck and the tops of his shoulders. He slowly worked his way down as he went on with what he was saying. 

"Forget the whole, 'unexpected reunion with the love of your life' thing. _You could have died._ Why the fuck weren't you wearing a vest, anyway, asshole?" 

Boyd knelt up and was gently rubbing Raylan's chest and arms. 

"That's so presumptuous," Raylan said, "'the love of my life.' How do you know that? What if I'm still pining over Rachel, my first girlfriend? Sure - ah, that feels so good - sure, we were nine, but it was true love, Boyd. She wrote my name in her binder."

Boyd smiled placidly and continued rubbing, moving on to Raylan's legs, kissing him on his hip pointer because, really, he couldn't resist. Everything about Raylan was sexy. As Boyd pressed his palms into his quads, Raylan's eyes drifted shut and he let out a long exhale. 

Boyd leaned over and ghosted his lips over Raylan's ribs and abdomen, raising goosebumps on his skin. Raylan hummed softly and his cock started to stiffen up. Boyd didn't touch it yet, just breathed on him and kept going with the massage. 

By the time Boyd reached his feet, Raylan was unable to keep still. He reached for his cock and squeezed it, pulling up and sighing with relief. 

Boyd smirked at him. "I was getting to it, Raylan. You have no patience."

"And yet you made me wait five years. Trying to teach me a lesson?"

Boyd shook his head slowly, silently, and crawled back up to kiss him. "Stop talking, would you? Just let me do this."

"Okay, Boyd," Raylan said softly. 

Boyd smiled at him and moved back down. “You’ll let me know if my _skills_ have risen to an acceptable level.”

"Count on it," Raylan said, brushing fingers through Boyd's hair, then let out a guttural moan as Boyd closed his mouth over him. 

Boyd had gotten in a fair amount of experience during his time away from Raylan, and if pressed, he'd have had to admit he was showing off a bit. Raylan dug his fingers into the sheets and closed his eyes. He let his hips press upward, searching for more contact when Boyd pulled back slightly, teasing him. 

Boyd reached up to slide two fingers into Raylan's mouth, and Raylan made a sound very close to a whine. When Boyd pulled them out and pressed them against Raylan's asshole, he said, "OhgodBoyd _oh fuck_ ," and pushed back against his hand. 

When Boyd's finger was in him, Raylan stopped saying anything, just breathed heavy and fast until he came with a shout. 

Feeling somewhat pleased with himself, Boyd sat up and looked down at Raylan, who was staring at him, his mouth slightly open. He tried not to smirk, but it was a challenge. 

"Holy shit, Boyd. Did you take a workshop or something?"

Boyd just smiled at him and crawled over to him. He pressed close and said, "I told you, I wanted to be ready for you. Everyone I was with, for a long time, I'd think, 'I bet Raylan will like that,' whenever I'd learn something new."

Raylan wrapped an arm around him and kissed the side of his head. "You asshole," he said, but without any anger. 

Boyd made them dinner. He stayed that night, and the next, and the next after that. He'd planned to leave Sunday night, but after dinner they fooled around, then Fargo came on the television, and they were asleep before Carl ended up in the wood chipper. 

The next morning, he woke with Raylan pressed up against his back, his arm wrapped around his waist and slowly stroking his dick. Raylan was hard, of course, and rubbing himself against Boyd's ass.

Boyd twisted his head around to look at him, and Raylan kissed him, then hitched into him harder as he pulled up faster. He put his mouth on the back of Boyd's neck and jerked his hips up a few times, making a frustrated sound when he couldn't get enough purchase. Boyd reached back and held his hip, pulling him in as tight as he could, and Raylan gasped suddenly as Boyd felt wetness spill out over the base of his spine. 

"Come on, Boyd, come for me," Raylan said, his breath hot in Boyd's hair. Boyd didn't need any more encouragement. He turned his head for another kiss, and he came as soon as their lips met. 

Boyd couldn't linger long in bed, because they'd neglected to set an alarm, and it was late. He took a quick shower, then realized he had nothing to wear to work, since he'd expected to go home last night. Thinking back, that had been a stupid decision. 

He borrowed a pair of jeans, which fit okay, a shirt, which was really too big, and a tie that was not his style at all. He looked at himself in the mirror and thought he looked sort of ridiculous, but Raylan came up behind him and told him he'd better hurry up and leave or he'd insist on more sex since he looked so good. 

Boyd was ten minutes late to the office, which was the last thing he'd wanted. He knew it would call attention to him. Karen was already at her desk, looking him over critically as he walked in. 

"You lose weight or something?" she asked.

Boyd said nothing, just shook his head and sat down.

"I ask, because that shirt's a little big on you. And now that I'm looking, I don't think I've ever seen you wear that tie."

Boyd still didn't answer, just pulled some paperwork out of a drawer and started on it. 

"Crowder," she said.

Boyd sighed. "What?"

"Are those Baker's clothes? Did you sleep over and borrow his clothes? Because if so, fuck you. And also, holy shit. You lucky son of a bitch."

Boyd worked on keeping the smile off his face. He wasn't the type to gossip or brag about his personal life, and he certainly wasn't going to start with Raylan. 

"At least tell me that body isn't as good as it looks with clothes on. There's no way it could live up to what's in my head."

Boyd pressed his lips together almost in time to stop the grin from appearing, but she saw. 

"Ugh, Crowder, I hate you," she said. "So, what, are you two getting married?"

Boyd kept doing his paperwork and said, "That ain't very sensitive of you, Sisco. You know very well my relationships do not enjoy full equality under the law." She huffed, and he did grin now. "But I told you, I'm keeping him. I'll put these handcuffs on him, I have to."

"I bet you will," she muttered. 

"Now," Boyd said, leaning back, "you're making assumptions. I could choose to take offense, but I know you're just jealous as hell, honey, so I'm gonna let that slide." 

She gave him a narrow-eyed glare, and he gazed back mildly. Nothing could possibly put him in any less than a fantastic mood today.

After work, Boyd stopped for clothes at his place, then headed back to Raylan’s. As he drove over there, it occurred to him that they hadn’t actually discussed him doing that. It was possible that Raylan would think he was being too clingy, or weird, or presumptuous. He thought he should probably call, maybe act like he hadn’t planned to come over at all, and see if Raylan would ask. That was pretty chickenshit though, so maybe he should call and just offer to come over. Maybe check if he needs anything. 

The phone rang at that moment. He picked it up without looking and said, “Yeah?”

“Hey, Boyd.” It was Raylan, and he sounded like he had a stupid grin on his face. “You off work yet?”

“Uh- yeah, I’m off. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering how soon you’ll be here. I was thinking of hopping in the shower, but can just leave the door unlocked for you.”

“I...well, alright.” Boyd almost laughed, because Raylan sounded like he hadn’t even considered any other possibility. Just like Boyd hadn’t, until a few minutes before.

“Oh shit,” Raylan said. “You weren’t planning to come over, were you? You totally don’t have to, man, I don’t know what I was thinking. For some reason I just assumed-”

Now Boyd did laugh. “Raylan, I’m pulling up in your parking lot right now. I assumed too. And then I started to second guess myself and thought you’d think I was a fucking weirdo.” He parked and started walking up the outside stairs to Raylan’s second floor apartment. “We should probably try to talk about some of this shit for real, soon, huh?”

Raylan was leaning in the doorway when he walked up, and they both snapped their phones shut. Boyd walked up and held him loosely around the waist. 

“Hi,” Raylan said.

“Hello, Raylan,” Boyd replied. 

“Just stay, okay? We don’t have to feel weird about it, do we? I mean, with other people, maybe we feel like we have to explain why it’s like this, but not with each other, right?”

“Okay,” Boyd said, and smiled at him, because there was nothing else to say about it, really. Raylan kissed him then, and pulled him inside.


End file.
